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7n^^^?^/^^/^ 


<▼ 


THE 


LIFE    AND    DEATH 


OF 


LORD  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 


BY  THOMAS  MOORE. 


Si  ssecula  prima 
Victoris  timuere  minas,  nunc  accipe  saltern 
Ossa  tui  Magni. 

LucaX. 


EEYISED  FROM   THE   THIRD   L^ttOTDOX   EDITION. 


WITH  ADDITIONAL iJC(6TES.    / 


/ 


NE  W-YOR 
PUBLISHED    BY    P.    M.    HAVERTY, 
110    FULTON    STREET. 

1855. 


# 


n  I  < 


O'NEILL  LIBRARY  / 
BOSTON  COU£G£ 


J.!N   0  5    1995 


PREFACE. 


In  order  to  guard  against  suspicion  of  having  been 
influenced  in  my  choice  of  the  subject  of  this  work  by 
any  view  to  its  apt  accordance  with  the  political  feel- 
ing of  the  day,  I  think  it  right  to  state  that  the  de- 
sign of  writing  a  Life  of  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  had 
been  taken  up  by  me  some  months  before  any  of  those 
events  occurred  which  have  again  given  to  the  whole 
face  of  Europe  so  revolutionary  an  aspect.*  I  ques- 
tion, indeed,  whether  this  fear,  lest  the  public  should 
mistake  my  object,  and  consider  as  meant  for  the  occa- 
sion what  is  intended  as  historical,  would  not  have 
prevented  me,  were  1  now  to  choose,  from  undertaking 
such  a  work  at  such  a  juncture  : — but,  having  underta- 
ken and  written  it,  I  see  no  sufficient  reason  why  I 
should  shrink  from  publishing  it. 

With  respect  to  Ireland,  her  situation  at  present  is, 
in  most  respects,  essentially  different  from  that  in  which 
the  crisis  commemorated  in  these  pages  found  her.  Of 
the  two  great  measures,  Emancipation  and  Reform, 
the  refusal  of  which  was  the  sole  cause  of  the  conspir- 
acy here  recorded,  one  has  already  been  granted,  and 
with  that  free  grace  which  adds  lustre  even  to  justice, 

*  This  Preface  was  written  during  the  excitement  of  the  French 
Revolution  of  1830. 


IV  PREFACE. 

while  the  other  is  now  in  triumphant  progress  towards 
the  same  noble  and  conciliatory  result.  That  in  the 
condition  of  Ireland  there  still  remain  grievances  to 
be  redressed  and  anomalies  to  be  got  rid  of  is  too 
manifest  to  be  questioned.  But,  instead  of  having  to 
contend,  as  in  former  times,  with  rulers  pledged  against 
her  interests  by  a  system  traditionally  hostile  to  all 
liberal  principles,  my  country  now  sees  in  the  seats  of 
authority  men  wliose  whole  lives  and  opinions  are  a 
sufficient  security  that,  under  their  influence,  better 
counsels  will  prevail ;  and  though  the  traces  still  left 
among  us  of  our  '•  blind  time  of  servitude  "  "  are  un- 
fortunately too  many  and  too  deep  to  be  all  at  once 
obliterated,  the  honest  intention,  will  not  be  wanting, 
on  the  part  of  our  present  rulers,  and  a  generous  con- 
fidence in  them  will  go  far  towards  giving  the  power-. 

That  I  have  regarded  the  task  of  writing  this  Me- 
moir is  one  purely  historical  will  appear, — too  strong- 
ly, I  apprehend,  for  the  tastes  of  some  persons, — in  the 
free  and  abstract  spirit  with  which  I  have  here  entered 
into  the  consideration  of  certain  rights  and  principles 
which,  however  sacred  and  true  in  themselves,  are  in 
general  advanced  with  more  reserve,  when  either  ap- 
plied, or  capable  of  being  applied,  to  any  actually  ex- 
isting order  of  things.  For  the  fears,  however,  that 
can  be  awakened  by  the  assertion,  however  bold,  of 
any  great  and  incontrovertible  political  principle,  I 
am  not  inclined,  I  own,  to  feel  much  respect  or  pity  ; 
— well  knowing  that  under  such  fears  a  consciousness 
of  injustice,  either  done  or  meditated,  is  always  sure 

■*  Fuit  enim  illud  quaddam  ccecum  tern-pus  servitutis. — Cicero. 


PREFACE .  V 

to  be  found  lurking.  Recollecting,  too,  from  the  his- 
tory of  both  countries  for  the  last  sixty  years,  how 
invariably  and  with  what  instructive  juxtaposition  of 
cause  and  effect,  every  alarm  of  England  for  the  integ- 
rity of  her  own  power  has  been  followed  by  some  long 
denied  boon  to  Ireland,  I  shall  willingly  bear  what- 
ever odium  may  redound  temporarily  upon  myself, 
should  any  warning  or  alarm  which  these  volumes  may 
convey  have  even  the  remotest  share  in  inducing^  the 
people  of  this  country  to  consult,  while  there  is  yet  time, 
their  own  peace  and  safety,  by  applying  prompt  and 
healing  remedies  to  the  remaining  grievances  of  Ireland. 
In  the  portion  of  this  work  which  relates  to  Lord 
Edward's  private  life,  it  may  be  thought,  perhaps,  that 
my  selections  from  his  correspondence  might  have  been 
more  sparing.  But,  besides  that  there  is,  in  the  sim- 
plicity and  warm-heartedness  of  these  letters,  a  charm 
which  cannot  but  be  attractive  to  most  readers, — every 
word  they  contain  answering  so  well  to  that  descrip- 
tion in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher, 

"  There  is  no  art  in  'em, 
They  lie  disorder'd  in  the  paper  just 
As  hearty  nature  speaks  'em  " — 

the  striking  contrast  which  their  tone  of  feeling  pre- 
sents to  the  troubled  course  on  which  he  afterward  en- 
tered, appeared  to  me  a  source  of  interest  too  touching 
and  singular  to  be,  from  any  critical  fastidiousness, 
relinquished. 


THE 

LIFE   AND   DEATH 

OF 

LORD  EDWARD  FITZGERALD, 


There  is,  perhaps,  no  name  in  the  ranks  of  the  Irish  peer- 
age that  has  been  so  frequently  and  prominently  connected 
with  the  political  destinies  of  Ireland  as  that  of  the  illustrious 
race  to  which  the  subject  of  the  following  Memoir  belonged  ; 
nor  would  it  be  too  much  to  say  that,  in  the  annals  of  the  Ge- 
raldines  alone, — in  the  immediate  consequences  of  the  first 
landing  of  Maurice  Fitzgerald  in  1170, — the  fierce  struggles, 
through  so  many  centuries,  of  the  Desmonds  and  Kildares,  by 
turns  instruments  and  rebels  to  the  cause  of  English  ascenden- 
cy,— and,  lastly,  in  the  awful  eyents  connected  with  the  death 
of  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  in  1798, — a  complete  history  of 
the  fatal  poHcy  of  England  towards  Ireland,  through  a  lapse 
of  more  that  six  centuries,  may  be  found  epitomised  and  illus- 
trated. 

With  the  fate,  indeed,  of  one  of  his  gallant  ancestors  in  the 
reign  of  Henry  YIII.  the  story  of  Lord  Edward  himself  affords 
but  too  many  strong  points  of  resemblance.  Lord  Thomas 
Fitzgerald,  the  son  of  the  ninth  Earl  of  Kildare,  a  youth  des- 
cribed as  being  of  the  most  amiable  disposition  and  manners, 
but  inheriting  all  his  father's  hatred  to  English  domination, 
broke  out  at  length  into  open  rebellion,  and  after  scattering, 
for  some  time,  dismay  among  the  loyal  inhabitants  of  the  Pale, 
was  defeated,  made  prisoner,  and,  on  the  2d  of  February,  1535, 


8  MEMOIRS    OF 

beheaded  at  Tyburn  ;*  tliiis,  for  the  second  thiie,f  but  unfor- 
tunately not  tlie  last,  brmging  attainder  on  the  princely  blood 
of  the  Fitzgeralds,  by  a  rash,  no  doubt,  and  miscalculating, 
but  still  noble  thirst  after  national  independence. 

When  Ireland,  after  the  long  sleep  of  exhaustion  and  deg- 
radation to  which  a  code  of  tyranny  unexampled  in  history 
had  doomed  her,  was  again  beginning  to  exhibit  some  stirrings 
of  national  spirit,  again  was  the  noble  name  of  Fitzgerald  found 
foremost  among  her  defenders  ;  and  the  memorial  addressed 
by  the  first  Duke  of  Leinster  to  George  II.,  denouncing  the 
political  primate.  Stone,  as  a  "greedy  churchman,  investing 
himself  with  temporal  power,  and  affecting  to  be  a  second 
Wolsey  in  the  state,"  marks  another  of  those  chapters  of  Irish 
history  in  which  all  the  characteristic  features  of  her  miso'ov- 
ernment  are  brought  together  in  their  most  compendious  shape. 
This  honest  remonstrance  concludes  with  the  following  words: 
— "  Your  majesty's  interest  in  the  hearts  of  your  loyal  subjects 
is  likely  to  be  affected  by  these  arbitrary  measures  ;  as  few 
care  to  represent  their  country  in  parliament,  where  a  junta  of 
two  or  three  men  disconcert  every  measure  taken  for  the  good 
of  the  subject,  or  the  cause  of  common  liberty.  Your  memo- 
rialist has  nothing  to  ask  of  your  majesty,  neither  place,  civil 
or  military,  neither  employment  or  preferment  for  himself  or 
his  friends  ;  and  begs  leave  to  add  that  nothing  but  his  duty 
to  your  majesty,  and  his  natural  hatred  to  such  detestable 
monopoly,  could  have  induced  your  memorialist  to  this  pre- 
sumption." 

Of  this  public-spirited  nobleman,  who  in  the  year  1141 
married  Emilia  Mary,  daughter  of  Charles,  Duke  of  Rich- 
mond, the  subject  of  these  pages.  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald, 

*  Ills  five  uncles,  too,  shared  his  fate.  "  Three  of  these  gentlemen," 
saj's  Hollinshead,  "  were  known  to  have  crossed  their  nephew  Tho- 
mas, to  their  power,  in  his  rebellion,  and  therefore  were  not  occasion- 
ed to  misdoubt  any  danger.  But  such  as  in  those  days  were  enemies 
to  iheir  house  incensed  the  king  sore  against  it,  persuading  him  that 
he  should  never  conquer  Ireland  so  long  as  any  Geraldines  breathed 
in  the  countr}-." 

f  The  first  Irish  parliamentary  attainder  to  be  found  in  the  Statute 
Book  is  that  of  Gerald  Fitzgerald,  Earl  of  Kildare,  in  the  reign  of 
Heurv  VII.,  ''for  treason  in  company  with  one  G Connor,  besieging 
the  Castle  of  Dublin." 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  9 

was  the  fifth  son,  beina:  bora  on  the  15th  of  October,  1763. 
In  the  year  1773,  the  Duke  of  Leinster  died,  and  not  long 
after,  Lord  Edward's  mother  became  the  wife  of  Wilhara 
Ogilvie,  Esq.,  a  gentleman  of  an  ancient  farailv  in  Scotland, 
being  the  representative  of  the  first  holder,  of  that  name,  of 
the  baronies  of  Milltoun  and  Achoynanie. 

Soon  after  their  marriage,  Mr.  OorilYie  and  the  Dutchess  of 
Leinster  removed,  with  the  greater  part  of  her  grace's  family, 
to  France  ;  and  the  Duke  of  Richmond  having  lent  them  his 
house  at  Aubigny,  they  resided  for  some  time  at  that  ancient 
seat.  The  care  of  the  little  Edward's  education,  which  had, 
before  their  departure  from  Ireland,  been  intrusted  chiefly  to 
a  private  tutor  of  the  name  of  Lynch,  was  now  taken  by  Mr. 
Ogilvie  into  his  own  hands  ;  and,  as  the  youth  was  from  the 
first  intended  for  the  military  profession,  to  the-  studies  con- 
nected with  that  pursuit  his  preceptor  principally  directed  his 
attention.  Luckily,  the  tastes  of  the  young  learner  coincided 
with  the  destinv  marked  out  for  him  ;  and  in  all  that  related 
to  the  science  of  militarv  construction — the  laving  out  of 
camps,  fortification,  &c. — he  ^Yas  early  a  student  and  pro- 
ficient. 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  addressed  by  him  to  his 
mother  during  her  absence  at  Paris,  will  show  what  pleasure 
he  took,  at  that  boyish  age,  in  preparing  himself  for  the  pro- 
fession he  was  destined  to  : — 

"  I  have  been  very  busv  :  I  am  now  erectinsr  a  beautiful 

•'4.  ^_> 

fortification  in  the  orangery,  and  am  quite  dehghted  with  it. 
I  wish  you  could  see  it  ;  for  I  know  you  would  think  it  very 
pretty.  When  it  is  finished,  I  intend  to  put  the  cannons  of 
both  our  ships  upon  it,  and  to  fire  away.  What  is  the  plea- 
santest  of  all,  I  laid  it  out  all  myself. 

"  I  also  took  a  very  pretty  survey  of  the  fields  round  the 
Garonne,  and  have  [though  I  coloured  it)  made  a  very  pretty 
plan  ;  and  Mr.  Ogilvie  did  not  touch  it  hardly  at  all,  I  just 
coloured  the  borders  of  the  fields,  and  left  the  inside  white, 
which  makes  a  very  good  effect.  I  did  all  the  trees  in  Indian 
ink.  I  have  now  tired  you  pretty  well  by  my  boastings  ;  but 
you  know  I  have  always  rather  a  eood  opinion  of  whatever 
I  do." 

The  future  politician  breaks  out  in  this  letter  as  well  as  the 
soldier.     "I  was  dehghted,"  he  adds,   "to  see  by  the  last 


10  MEMOIRS    OF 

Courier  that  Lord  Xortli  had  been  so  attacked  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  and  that  the  opposition  carried  off  everything. 
I  think  he  cannot  hold  out  much  lonc-er." 

In  the  year  1779,  the  whole  family  left  Aubigny  for  Eng- 
land, where,  soon  after,  the  young  Edward  made  his  first 
experiment  of  a  military  life  in  the  Sussex  militia,  of  which  his 
uncle,  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  was  colonel.  It  was  not  long 
before  he  became  a  special  favorite  of  the  duke  ;  and  the 
knowledge  he  had  acquired  abroad  in  the  art  of  castrametation 
had  now,  young  as  he  was,  an  opportunity  of  displaying  itself. 
An  encampment  being  about  to  be  formed  for  the  regiment, 
and  those  intrusted  with  the  task  of  pitching  the  tents  having 
proved  themselves  wholly  ignorant  of  the  matter.  Lord  Ed- 
ward, with  the  permission  of  his  uncle,  undertook  to  be  their 
instructor,  and  performed  his  part  in  this  extemporaneous 
architecture  with  so  much  adroitness  as  to  excite  general  sur- 
prise. The  following  is  his  own  account  of  the  circumstance, 
in  a  letter  to  the  dutchess,  dated  from  Berner  camp  : — "  I 
have  taken  the  first  opportunity  of  giving  you  an  account  of 
your  sweet  dear  boy  ;  and  that  my  letter  may  go  down  the 
better,  I  write  it  without  lines. — It  began  pretty  straight  and 
even,  but  I  am  afraid  you  will  soon  have  a  zio-zaor  line.  I  am, 
however,  sure  you  will  not  perceive  it,  your  eye  will  have  got 
so  accustomed  to  the  zigzag  walks  of  Stoke.*  Our  camp  is 
very  pleasant,  though  the  ground  is  rough  and  bad^,  but  when 
we  have  dressed  it  a  little,  it  will  be^  very  beautiful.  The 
Duke  of  Richmond  has  been  very  busy,  and  has  staid  out  all 
day  with  us  ever  since  we  came  to  camp. — He  altered  the 
ground,  which  was  quite  wrongly  marked  out,  and  saw  him- 
self that  it  was  right. — Before  he  let  the  men  pitch,  he  left 
the  pitching  of  his  own  company  to  me,  aiid  I  was  not  one 
inch  wrong.  I  like  what  I  have  seen  as  yet  of  my  profession 
very  much." 

Pleased,  however,  as  he  was  with  this  preliminary  step  to 
soldiership,  it  was  not  likely  long  to  satisfy  the  ambition  of  a 
youth  who,  as  appears  from  all  his  letters,  was  burning  with 
impatience  to  be  employed  on  some  of  those  fields  of  active 
service  which  the  hostile  relations  of  England  had  now  opened 

*  Tlie  seat  of  Lord  George  Lennox,  where  the  Dutchess  was  then 
staying. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  11 

in  almost  every  quarter  of  the  world.  A  lieutenancy  was 
accordingly  procured  for  him  in  the  96th  regiment  of  foot  ; 
and  in  theautumn  of  1780  he  joined  his  regiment  in  Ireland, 
uncertain,  as  yet,  and,  of  course,  anxious  as  to  its  ultimate 
destination.  From  Youghall  he  thus  writes  to  his  mother, 
who  was  then  residing  in  Kildare  street,  Dublin  : — "  We 
arrived  here  on  Saturday,  after  a  very  wet  march  from  five  ift 
the  morning  till  four  in  the  afternoon.  I  should  have  written 
to  yon  then  had  I  been  able  ;  but  I  had  so  much  to  do  the 
minute  I  had  got  dry  things,  in  looking  out  for  lodgings,  in 
seeing  the  men  settled,  and  getting  my  baggage,  that  I  may 
say  I  have  not  been  off  foot  till  this  moment.  I  am  not, 
however,  the  least  tired,  though  I  marched  every  step  of 
the  way,  and  almost  every  day's  journey  after  Carlo w  was 
twenty  miles  over  rugged  mountains.  This  is  a  very  pleasant 
quarter. 

"  I  am  lodged  with  Captain  Giles,  and  like  him  better  every 
day.  I  hope  I  shall  be  in  the  transport  with  him.  We  have 
not  yet  heard  anything  about  the  transport,  nor  of  our  desti- 
nation. There  are  orders  for  three  more  regiments  to  prepare 
to  go  with  us,  and  one  of  cavalry  ;  which  makes  me  think  it 
cannot  be  to  Gibraltar,  and  this  I  am  very  glad  of. 

"  There  is  to  be  a  great  assembly  here  to-night,  and  the 
misses  are  all  in  a  great  hurry  to  show  themselves  off  to  the 
officers.  I  have  a  great  many  civilities  from  the  people  here 
— not  from  the  misses,  but  gentlemen  of  the  town — especially 
from  both  the  Uniacks  ;  and  the  youngest,  whom  you  saw^, 
offered  me  his  house,  and  has  insisted  on  providing  me  with 
garden-stuff  of  all  sorts  from  his  country-house  when  we  are  to 
sail." 

In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Ogilvie,  a  few  days  later  (November  9), 
he  says  : — "  I  received  your  kind  letter  yesterday  ;  it  gave  me 
a  great  deal  of  pleasure,  and  particularly  so,  when  I  found 
that  your  sentiments  so  perfectly  agreed  with  mine.  But 
indeed  whatever  mine  are,  as  well  as  anything  I  have  ever 
acquired,  are  mostly  owing  to  your  affection  for  me,  both  in 
forming  my  principles  and  helping  my  understanding  ;  for 
which  the  only  return  I  can  make  is  my  love  for  you  ;  and 
that  1  am  sure  you  are  perfectly  convinced  of,  I  shall  cer- 
tainly follow  your  advice,  and  stick  as  close  as  possible  to 
Captain  Giles,  for  I  find  him  grow  more  friendly,  if  possible, 


12  MEMOIRS    OF 

to  me  every  day,  as  well  as  more  anxious  to  improve  me  as  an 
officer." 

This  letter  to  Mr.  Ogilvie  thus  concludes  : — "  I  wish  we 
may  sail  soon,  though  we  hear  nothing  of  it  yet.  If  you  do, 
pray  write  me  word.  I  have  my  dearest  mother's  picture  now 
before  me  :  how  obliged  to  you  I  am  for  it  you  cannot  con- 
ceive. How  happy  should  I  be  to  see  her  !  yet  how  happy 
shall  I  be  when  we  sail  !" 

From  the  following  extracts  of  a  letter  written  in  the  same 
month,  it  will  be  perceived  with  what  zeal  he  had  already 
entered  into  the  true  spirit  of  his  profession,  and,  though  so 
anxious  for  promotion,  yet  preferred  availing  himself  of  the 
first  opportunity  of  seeing  active  service  to  any  advancement 
that  might,  even  for  a  short  time,  withhold  from  him  that 
advantage  : — 

*o^  «^  «^  ^u  ^> 

^^  *^  *^  *I*  T* 

"  I  w^ent  from  thence  to  Lord  Shannon's,  where  I  met  Lady 
Inchiquin,  in  the  same  old  7narro7i-co\oYed  gown  I  saw  her  in 
when  we  left  Ireland  ;  only,  indeed,  I  must  say  (to  give  the 
devil  his  due)  that  it  was  made  up  into  a  jacket  and  petticoat. 
Miss  Sandford  was  with  her  ;  she  is  a  charming  girl,  very 
pretty,  with  a  great  deal  of  wit,  and  very  sensible  and  good- 
humored  ; — in  short,  if  I  had  had  time,  I  should  have  fallen 
desperately  in  love  with  her  ;  as  it  is,  I  am  a  little  touched. 
Lady  Inchiquin  and  she  both  go  to  Dublin  to-morrow.  I 
don't  know  what  sort  of  an  account  Lady  Inchiquin  will  give 
of  me,  but  I  am  sure  Miss  Sandford  will  give  a  very  good 
one. 

"  We  have  heard  nothing  of  our  destination  as  yet :  but  I 
believe  we  are  to  go  with  the  Royals,  who  are  in  their  tran- 
sports ready  to  sail  for  Cork.  I  wish  we  were  gone.  I  hope 
when  Lord  Carlisle  comes  over,  Mr.  Ogilvie  and  you  won't 
forget  to  remind  my  brother  about  a  company.  I  hear  Lord 
Buckingham  is  quite  deserted.*  I  suppose  there  is  no  chance 
of  his  being  able  to  give  me  a  company,  though  I  think  my 
brother  ought  to  have  got  anything  almost  from  him.  How- 
ever, I  do  not  wish  to  have  one  before  we  sail,  as  then  I  should 

*  The  late  rejection  of  the  Declaration  of  Irish  rights  moved  by 
Mr.  Grattan  had  rendered  Lord  Buckinghamshire's  administration 
verj'  impopular. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  13 

effect  an  excliaiige  with  some  captain  in  America  with  greater 
ease  ;  for  if  a  company  were  to  hinder  ray  going  out,  I  should 
much  rather  take  my  chance  there.  I  dare  say  Lord  Strat- 
haven,  by  being  aid-de-camp,  will  get  a  majority  sooner  than 
I  shall,  though  I  may  deserve  it  better  ;  and  as  my  brother 
had  the  naming  of  one  of  the  aides-de-camp,  and  named  Bury, 
I  think  if  that  is  properly  used,  it  may  be  of  some  help 
towards  my  promotion.  If  I  had  been  to  remain  in  Ireland, 
the  situation  of  aid-de-camp  would  have  been  a  very  good 
thing  for  me  towards  promotion,  but  not  towards  learning  my 
business  and  being  a  good  ofiQcer,  which,  you  know,  is  my 
great  ambition." 

The  struggle  which,  in  a  preceding  letter,  he  so  naturally 
expresses  between  his  regrets  at  leaving  those  he  loved,  and 
his  impatience  for  departure,  is  thus  further  dwelt  upon  : 


Yoiighall,  December  2d,  1780. 


"dear,  dear  mother. 


"  I  cannot  express  how  much  your  letter  affected  me.  The 
only  thing  that  could  put  me  in  spirits  was  a  report  that  the 
transports  were  come  into  Cove.  How  odd  are  these  feelings, 
and  how  strange  must  such  sentiments  appear  to  you,  dear 
mother,  who  are  the  only  person  I  have  mentioned  them  to  ! 
I  believe  Mr.  Ogilvie  understands  them  ;  he  is  the  only  person 
besides  yourself  I  could  mention  them  to  ;  so  pray  show  this 
letter  to  nobody  but  him.  How  happy  am  I  to  have  two 
people  to  whom  I  can  thus  express  every  sentiment  of  my 
heart  ! 

"  Do  not  think  now,  dear  mother,  that  I  am  in  low  spirits  ; 
I  am  still  leplits  gai  and  happiest  in  the  regiment,  I  am  very 
busy,  and  have  a  great  deal  to  do  with  my  company,  which, 
as  the  captain  does  not  mind  it  much,  is  not  a  very  good  one, 
and  I  have  taken  it  into  mv  head  that  I  can  make  it  better. 
You  will  think  me  very  conceited,  but  I  depend  greatly  upon 
Captain  Giles's  instructions.  I  follow  him  very  much,  and  he 
has  been  of  the  greatest  service  to  me.  I  think  by  the  time  I 
have  served  a  campaign  or  two  with  him,  I  shall  be  a  pretty 
good  officer.  I  like  my  duty  every  day  better  and  better  :  and 
you  know  that  is  one  great  step  towards  knowing  it  well. 

"  Believe  me,  dearest  mother,  &c.  &c." 


14  "^  MEMOIRS    OF 

III  the  Army  List  for  1782  Lord  EchvarcVs  exchange  from 
his  first  regiment  into  the  19th  is  set  down  as  having  taken 
pkice  September  20th,  1780.  But  the  following  extract  from 
a  letter  to  the  dutchess,  dated  ^January  2 2d,  1781,  will  show 
that  at  the  time  when  it  was  written  this  exchange  had  not 
yet  been  effected  : — 

*^i*  ^1^  ^^  ^^  ^^ 

^fi  ^i  *^  ^^  rj^ 

"  As  to  that  part  where  he  desires  me  to  ask  leave  for  an 
exchange  into  the  19th,  as  I  told  Mr.  Ogilvie  before,  it  is 
impossible  for  me  to  get  such  an  exchange  except  with  the 
captain-lieutenants  ;  and  even  of  that  now  I  have  no  hopes, 
for  most  likely  the  additional  company  will  not  go  in  the 
regiment.  Now,  suppose,  instead  of  asking  leave  to  get  an 
exchange  into  the  19th,  I  were  only  to  ask  to  be  permitted  to 
go  out  with  that  regiment  to  wherever  they  are  destined,  and 
there  to  be  appointed  to  serve  in  some  capacity  or  other  ;  as 
I  own  his  majesty's  late  promise  has  only  given  me  a  still 
greater  desire  to  serve  abroad  ;  and  even  promotion  would  be 
unacceptable  if  it  kept  me  at  home,  and  deprived  me  of  that 
pleasure.  I  do  not  think  it  unhkely  but  that  the  Foudroyant 
may  convoy  us,  as  we  shall  have,  I  believe,  the  grand  fleet  till 
we  get  out  of  the  Channel.  Some  people  now  say  that  we  are 
going  to  the  East  Indies.  I  wish  it  may  be  ;  if  we  do,  we 
shall  come  back  as  rich  as  nabobs,  and  I  suppose  I  shall  have 
some  commissions  for  the  Black  Rock.     So  believe  me 

"  Yours, 
"Edward  Fitzgerald." 

In  a  short  time  after  the  above  was  written  his  exchange 
into  the  19th  must  have  been  effected,  as  we  find  him  writing 
thus  to  his  mother,  on  the  14th  of  February,  1781  : — 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

"  I  have  heard  nothing  more  about  ray  company,  and  must 
say,  that  if  I  do  get  it,  it  will  not  give  me  pleasure,  as  leaving 
the  19th  when  going  abroad,  to  lead  the  idle  life  of  a  recruit- 
ing officer,  does  not  at  all  agree  with  the  intentions  I  had 
when  I  took  leave  of  you  ;  and  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you, 
dear  mother,  which  you  may  be  sure  is  the  greatest  happiness 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  15 

to  me  in  the  world,  will  still  not  be  the  same  as  it  would  have 
been  after  two  or  three  campaigns  in  America." 

It  was  not  till  the  latter  end  of  March,  as  appears  by  a 
letter  dated  from  on  board  the  London  transport,  that  he  set 
sail  for  his  place  of  destination.  He  had  been  staying,  for 
some  days  previous  to  embarking,  at  Lord  Shannon's  seat  at 
Castle  Martyr,  and  was,  as  the  letter  announces,  to  sail  from 
thence  in  the  course  of  three  hours,  for  the  purpose  of  joining 
the  other  transports  waiting  at  Cork. 

At  the  beginning  of  June,  Lord  Edward's  regiment,  and 
the  two  others  that  sailed  with  it  from  Cork,  lauded  at 
Charleston.  Their  arrival  at  this  crisis  was  an  event  most 
seasonable  for  the  relief  of  the  English  forces  actinor  in  that 
quarter,  who  were,  by  the  late  turn  of  the  campaign,  placed 
in  a  situation  of  great  difficulty.  The  corps  under  Lord  Raw- 
don's  command  at  Charleston  having  been  found  hardly  suffi- 
cient for  the  defence  of  that  capital,  he  was  unable,  with  any 
degree  of  safety,  to  detach  from  his  already  inadequate  force 
such  aid  as,  in  more  than  one  point,  the  perilous  state  of  the 
province  required.  Post  after  post  had  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  Americans,  and  the  important  fort  called  "Xinety- 
Six,"  which  had  been  for  some  time  invested  by  General 
Greene,  w^as  now  also  on  the  point  of  being  lost  for  want  of 
those  succours  which  the  straitened  means  of  Lord  Rawdon 
prevented  him  from  affording. 

Li  this  juncture  the  three  regiments  from  Ireland  arrived, 
and  gave  an  entirely  new  aspect  to  the  face  of  affairs.  Though 
destined  originally  to  join  Lord  Cornwallis,  they  were,  \vith  a 
prompt  sense  of  the  exigencies  of  the  moment,  placed,  by  the 
oflBcer  who  had  the  command  of  them,  at  the  disposal  of  Lord 
Rawdon,  and  thus  enabled  his  lordship,  not  only  to  relieve 
the  garrison  of  "  Xinety-Six,"  but  also  to  follow  up  this  im- 
pression with  a  degree  of  energy  and  confidence,  of  which  even 
his  enterprising  gallantry  would  have  been  with(3ut  such  aid 
incapable.  It  was,  indeed,  supposed  that  the  American 
general  was  not  a  little  influenced  in  his  movements  by  the 
intelligence  which  he  had  received,  that  the  newly  arrived 
troops  were  ''  particularly  full  of  ardour  for  an  opportunity  of 
signalizing  themselves." 

That  Lord  Edward  was  among  these  impatient  candidates 


16  MEMOIRS    OF 

for  distinction  can  little  be  doubted  ;  and  it  was  but  a  short 
time  after  their  joining  he  had  the  good  fortune  to  achieve  a 
service  which  was  not  only  brilliant  but  useful,  and  brought 
him  both  honour  and  reward.  The  19th  regiment,  being 
posted  in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  place  called  Monk's  Corner, 
found  itself  menaced,  one  morning  at  daybreak,  with  an  attack 
from  Colonel  Lee,  one  of  the  ablest  and  most  enterprising  of 
the  American  partisans.  This  officer  having  made  some  de- 
monstrations, at  the  head  of  his  cavalry,  in  front  of  the  19th, 
the  colonel  of  that  regiment  (ignorant,  as  it  appears,  of  the 
nature  of  American  warfare)  ordered  a  retreat ; — a  movement 
wholly  unnecessary,  and  rendered  still  more  discreditable  by 
the  unmilitary  manner  in  which  it  was  effected  :  all  the  bag- 
gage, sick,  medicines,  and  paymasters'  chests  being  left  in  the 
rear  of  the  column  of  march,  where  they  were  liable  to  be 
captured  by  any  half-dozen  stragglers.  Fortunately,  Lord 
Edward  was  upon  the  rear-guard,  covering  the  retreat  of  the 
regiment,  and  by  the  firm  and  determined  countenance  of  his 
little  party,  and  their  animated  fire,  kept  the  American  corps 
in  check  till  he  was  able  to  break  up  a  small  wooden  bridge 
over  a  creek  which  separated  him  from  his  pursuers,  and 
which  could  not  be  crossed  by  the  enemy  without  making  a 
long  detour.  Having  secured  safety  so  far.  Lord  Edward 
reported  the  state  of  affairs  to  the  colonel ;  and,  the  disrepu- 
table panic  being  thus  put  an  end  to,  the  regiment  resumed 
its  original  position. 

Major  Doyle,  now  General  Sir  John  Doyle, — an  officer 
whom  but  to  name  is  to  call  up  in  the  minds  of  all  who  have 
the  happiness  of  knowing  him  whatever  is  most  estimable  and 
amiable,  both  in  the  soldier  and  the  man, — was  at  this  time ' 
at  the  head  of  Lord  Rawdon's  staff :  and  to  him,  actino-  as 
adjutant-general,  the  official  report  of  the  whole  affair  was 
made.  Without  delay  he  submitted  it  to  his  noble  chief,  who 
was  so  pleased  with  this  readiness  of  resource  in  so  young  an 
officer,  that  he  desired  Major  Doyle  to  write  instantly  to  Lord 
Edward  in  his  name,  and  offer  him  the  situation  of  aid-de-camp 
on  his  staff. 

This  appointment  was,  in  every  respect,  fortunate  for  the 
young  soldier,  as,  besides  bringing  him  into  near  relation  with 
a  nobleman  so  amiable,  it  placed  him  where  he  was  enabled 
to  gratify  his  military  tastes,  by  seeing  war  carried  on  upon  a 


LORD   EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  iT 

larger  and  more  scientific  scale,  and,  it  may  be  added,  under 
one  of  the  very  best  masters.  He  accordingly  repaired  to 
head-quarters,  and  from  thence  accompanied  Lord  Rawdon 
in  his  rapid  and  successful  movement  for  the  relief  of  Kinety- 
Six. 

It  was  in  the  course  of  this  expedition  that  Lord  Edward 
exhibited, — or  rather  was  detected  in, — a  trait  of  personal 
courage,  of  that  purely  adventurous  kind  which  is  seldom 
found  but  in  romance,  and  of  which  the  following  particulars 
have  been  related  to  me  by  the  distinguished  person  then 
acting  as  adjutant-general. 

"  Among  the  varied  duties  which  devolved  upon  me,  as 
chief  of  the  staff,  a  most  material  one  was  obtaining  intelli- 
gence. This  was  effected  partly  by  the  employment  of  intelli- 
gent spies  in  various  directions,  and  partly  by  frequent  recon- 
noissances ;  which  last  were  not  devoid  of  danger,  from  the 
superior  knowledge  of  the  country  possessed  by  the  enemy. 
Upon  these  occasions  I  constantly  found  Lord  Edward  by  my 
side,  with  the  permission  of  our  noble  chief,  who  wished  our 
young  friend  to  see  every  thing  connected  with  real  service. 
In  fact,  the  danger  enhanced  the  value  of  the  enterprise  in  the 
eyes  of  this  brave  young  creature.  In  approaching  the  jDOsi- 
tion  of  Ninety-Six,  the  enemy's  light  troops  in  advance  became 
more  numerous,  and  rendered  more  freciuent  patrols  neces'sary 
upon  our  part. 

"  I  was  setting  out  upon  a  patrol,  and  sent  to  apprize  Lord 
Edward  ;  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  found,  and  I  proceeded 
without  him,  when,  at  the  end  of  two  miles,  upon  emerging 
from  the  forest,  I  found  him  engaged  with  two  of  the  enemy's 
irregular  horse  :  he  had  wounded  one  of  his  opponents,  when 
his  sword  broke  in  the  middle,  and  he  must  have  soon  fallen 
in  the  unequal  contest,  had  not  his  enemies  fled  on  perceiving 
the  head  of  my  column.  I  rated  him  most  soundly,  as  you 
may  imagine,  for  the  undisciplined  act  of  leaving  the  camp,  at 
so  critical  a  time,  without  the  general's  permission.  He  was 
- — or  pretended  to  be — very  penitent,  and  compounded  for  my 
reporting  him  at  the  head-quarters,  provided  I  would  let  him 
accompany  me,  in  the  hope  of  some  other  enterprise.  It  was 
impossible  to  refuse  the  fellow,  whose  frank,  manly,  and 
ingenuous  manner  would  have  won  over  even  a  greater  tyrant 
than  myself.    In  the  course  of  the  day  we  took  some  prisoners, 


18  MEMOIRS    OF 

which  I  made  him  convey  to  head-quarters,  with  a  Bdhrophon 
message,  which  he  fairly  delivered.  Lord  Moira  gravely 
rebuked  him  ;  but  I  could  never  find  that  he  lost  much  grouiuL 
with  his  chief  for  his  chivalrous  valour P 

After  the  relief  of  Ninety-Six,  Lord  Rawdon,  whose  health 
had  suffered  severely  from  the  climate,  found  it  advisable  to 
return  to  England  ;  in  consequence  of  which  Lord  Edward 
rejoined  his  regiment. 

The  calm  that  succeeded  Lord  Rawdon's  departure  from 
South  Carolina,  owing  to  the  activity  with  which  he  had 
retrieved  the  affairs  of  the  royal  forces,  and  thus  established 
an  equipoise  of  strength  between  the  two  parties,  could  be 
expected,  of  course,  only  to  last  till  one  of  them  had  become 
powerful  enough  to  disturb  it.  Accordingly,  in  the  autumn, 
General  Greene,  having  received  reinforcements  from  another 
quarter,  proceeded,  with  his  accustomed  vigour,  to  resume 
offensive  operations  ;  and,  by  his  attack  upon  Colonel  Stuart 
at  Eutaw  Springs,  gave  rise  to  one  of  the  best-fought  actions 
that  had  occurred  during  the  war.  Though  the  meed  of  vic- 
tory on  this  occasion  was  left  doubtful  between  the  claimants, 
that  of  honour  is  allowed  to  have  been  fairly  the  due  of  both. 
So  close,  indeed,  and  desperate  was  the  encounter,  that  every 
ofiicer  engaged  is  said  to  have  had  personally,  and  hand  to 
hand,  an  opportunity  of  distinguishing  himself  ;  and  Lord 
Edward,  who,  we  may  take  for  granted,  was  among  the  fore- 
most in  the  strife,  received  a  severe  wound  in  the  thigh,  which 
left  him  insensible  on  the  field. 

In  this  helpless  situation  he  was  found  by  a  poor  negro, 
who  carried  him  off  on  his  back  to  his  hut,  and  there  nursed 
him  most  tenderly  till  he  was  well  enough  of  his  wound  to 
bear  removing  to  Charleston.  This  negro  was  no  other  than 
the  "  faithful  Tony,"  whom,  in  gratitude  for  the  honest  crea- 
ture's kindness,  he  now  took  into  his  service,  and  who  con- 
tinued devotedly  attached  to  his  noble  master  to  the  end  of 
his  career. 

It  had  been  intended  that  Major  Doyle,  on  the  departure 
of  Lord  Rawdon,  should  resume  the  station  he  had  before  held 
on  the  staff  of  Lord  Cornwallis  ;  but  in  consequence  of  this 
irruption  of  new  forces  into  the  province,  he  was  requested  by 
General  Goold,  who  had  succeeded  to  the  chief  command,  still 
to  continue  to  him  the  aid  of  his  local  knowledge  and  experi- 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  19- 

ence,  so  as  to  avert  the  mischiefs  which  a  total  want  of  confi-. 
deuce  in  most  of  the  persons  newly  appointed  to  command 
now  threatened.  Major  Doyle  therefore  again  took  upon 
himself  the  duties  of  adjutant-general  and  public  secretary, 
and  proceeded,  vested  with  full  powers,  to  the  scene  of  the 
late  action,  for  the  purpose  both  of  ascertaining  the  true  state 
of  affairs,  and  of  remedying  the  confusion  into  which  they  had 
been  thrown.  Here  he  found  Lord  Edward  slowly  recovering 
from  his  wound,  and  the  following  is  the  account  which  he 
gives  of  his  young  friend  : — "  I  am  not  sure  that  he  was  not 
then  acting  as  aid-de-camp  to  Stuart,  as  the  19th,  I  think, 
was  not  there.  At  all  events,  he  had  been  foremost  in  the 
melee,  as  usual,  and  received  a  very  severe  wound  in  the 
thigh.  At  this  same  time  Colonel  Washington,  a  distinguished 
officer  of  the  enemy's  cavalry,  was  severely  wounded  and  made 
prisoner  ;  and  while  I  was  making  preparations  to  send  them 
down  comfortably  to  Charleston,  Lord  Edward,  forgetting  his 
own  wound,  offered  his  services  to  take  charge  of  his  gallant 
enemy.  I  saw  him  every  day  till  he  recovered,  about  which 
time  I  was  sent  to  England  with  the  public  despatches." 

To  these  notices  of  "a  part  of  his  lordship's  life,  hitherto  so 
little  known,  it  would  be  unjust  not  to  add  the  few  words  of 
comment,  as  eloquently  as  they  are  cordially  expressed,  with 
which  the  gallant  writer  closes  his  communication  to  me  on 
the  subject  : — • 

"  Of  my  lamented  and  ill-fated  friend's  excellent  qualities  I 
should  never  tire  in  speaking.  I  never  knew  so  loveable  a 
person,  and  every  man  in  the  army,  from  the  general  to  the 
drummer,  would  cheer  the  expression.  His  frank  and  open 
manner,  his  universal  benevolence,  his  gaiete  de  cccur,  his  va- 
lour almost  chivalrous,  and,  above  all,  his  unassuming  tone, 
made  him  the  idol  of  all  who  served  with  him.  He  had  great 
animal  spirits,  which  bore  him  up  against  all  fatigue  ;  but  his 
courage  was  entirely  independent  of  those  spirits — it  was  a 
valour  sui  generis. 

"  Had  fortune  happily  placed  him  in  a  situation,  however 
difficult,  where  he  could  legitimately  have  brought  those  varied 
qualities  into  play,  I  am  confident  he  would  have  proved  a 
proud  ornament  to  his  country." 

It  may  not,  perhaps,  though  anticipating  a  period  so  much 
later,  appear  altogether  ill-timed  to  mention  in  this  place,  that 


20  MEMOIRS    OF 

when  Lord  Edward  lay  suffering  under  the  fatal  wounds  of 
which  he  died  in  1T98,  a  military  man  connected  with  govern- 
ment, who  had  known  him  at  this  time  in  Charleston,  happen- 
ing to  allude,  during  a  visit  to  him  in  prison,  to  the  circum- 
stances under  which  they  had  first  become  acquainted,  the 
gallant  sufferer  exclaimed — "  Ah  !  I  was  wounded  then  in  a 
very  different  cause  ; — that  was  in  fighting  against  liberty — 
this,  in  fighting  for  it," 

It  is,  indeed,  not  a  little  striking  that  there  should  have 
been  engaged  at  this  time,  on  opposite  sides,  in  America,  two 
noble  youths,  Lafayette  and  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  whose 
political  principles  afterward  so  entirely  coincided  ;  and  that, 
while  one  of  them  was  fated  soon  to  become  the  victim  of  an 
unsuccessful  assertion  of  these  principles,  it  has  been  the  far 
brighter  destiny  of  the  other  to  contribute,  more  than  once, 
splendidly  to  their  triumph. 

After  the  surrender  of  Lord  Cornwallis  at  Yorktown, — 
with  which  humiliating  event  the  war  on  the  continent  of 
America  may  be  said  to  have  closed, — the  scene  of  active 
operations  between  England  and  her  combined  foes  was  trans- 
ferred to  the  West  Indies,  where,  at  the  beginning  1783,  we 
find  Lord  Edward  on  the  staff  of  General  O'Hara  at  St. 
Lucia.  The  following  are  extracts  of  letters  written  by  him 
from  this  island  : 

"  St.  Lucia,  Feb.  4,  \1%Z. 
"  DEAREST    MOTHER, 

"  In  my  last,  I  believe,  I  told  you  Gen.  O'Hara  was  to 
command  at  Barbadoes  ;  but  affairs  were  altered,  and  we  re- 
turned here  to  take  the  command  of  this  island,  which  I  am 
very  glad  of,  as,  if  any  thing  is  to  be  done,  it  will  be  here  ; 
and  in  the  mean  time  we  are  working  hard  at  the  fortifica- 
tions, which  was  very  necessary  ;  for  although  we  have  had 
the  island  four  years,  yet,  either  by  the  ignorance  or  indolence 
of  those  in  command,  nothing  has  been  done.  I  am  also  of 
some  use  by  talking  French.  Gen.  O'Hara  pleases  me  more 
every  day,  both  in  his  public  and  private  character.  In  his 
manner  of  carrying  on  business  he  puts  me  very  much  in  mind 
of  dear  Mr.  Ogilvie,  particularly  in  that  of  not  trusting  what 
is  to  be  done  to  others,  but  always  seeing  it  done  himself  ; 
and  also  in  his  eagerness  in  all  his  works.     We  have  unluckily 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  21 

three  blockheads  of  enghieers  (as  they  are  pleased  to  call 
themselves),  who  are  not  of  the  least  assistance. 

"  I  was  over  at  Martinique  the  other  day  with  a  flag  of 
truce,  with  prisoners.  It  was  a  very  pleasant  jaunt.  I  staid 
there  a  week,  and  received  every  civility  possible  from  le  Mar- 
quis de  Bouille  and  the  rest  of  the  officers,  but  met  nobody  I 
knew  before.  It  is  a  much  finer  island  than  any  of  ours,  and 
much  better  peopled.  St.  Pierre,  the  capital,  is  a  very  fine 
town,  and  full  of  amusements.  I  was  at  a  ball  every  night. 
The  women  are  pretty  ;  dance  and  dress  very  well  ;  and  are, 
the  French  officers  say, — to  use  dear  Robert's  words, — vastly 
good-natured.  When  I  went  over  first,  they  expected  the 
peace  every  day  ;  but  there  came  in  a  French  frigate  called  the 
Yenus,  with  accounts  that  the  treaty  was  entirely  broken  off, 
both  with  France  and  Spain,  though  settled  with  the  Ameri- 
cans, and  that  Monsieur  d'Estaing  was  to  be  out  immediately. 
We  are  anxious  to  hear  something  about  this  affair,  as  tiie 
peace  frightens  everybody. 

"  I  hope,  dearest  mother,  you  will  get,  me  what  I  have  so 
long  been  troubling  you  about,  and  shall  still  persist  in,  which 
is,  a  company  in  the  guards.  In  that  case  I  shall  be  able  to 
see  you,  and  not  trouble  you  with  sending  any  thing  here.  I 
have  now  been  four  years  in  the  army  ; — but  I  need  not  men- 
tion that,  as  it  does  not  entitle  me  to  any  thing.  I  only  name 
the  time,  as  people  have  had  a  company  in  less.  In, short,  my 
dear  mother,  if  you  exert  yourself,  I  am  sure  you  can  do  it. 
If  there  do  not  come  troops  here,  I  can  do  nothing  for  myself. 
There  are  at  present  only  four  regiments  here  in  the  West 
Indies  ;  so  that  I  look  to  Europe  for  any  promotion  I  may 
have.  If  it  were  not  possible  to  get  the  company  in  the 
guards,  I  might  get  the  rank  of  lieutenant-colonel  by  going  to 
East  Indies,  which,  as  it  seems  to  promise  to  be  an  active 
scene,  I  should  like  extremely.  I  see  by  the  newspapers,  and 
have  heard  by  parade  letters,  that  Lord  Cornwallis  is  going 
to  command  there,  which,  as  I  said  before  in  one  of  my  let- 
ters, would  be  a  good  opportunity 

"St.  Lucia,  March  3,  1783. 

"  What  would  I  not  give  to  be  with  you,  to  comfort  you, 
dearest  mother  !  But  I  hope  the  peace  will  soon  bring  the 
long-wished-for  time.     Till  then  my  dearest  mother  will  not 


22  MEMOIRS    OF 

expect  it.  My  profession  is  that  of  a  military  man,  and  I 
should  reproach  myself  hereafter  if  I  tliought  I  lost  any  oi> 
portunity  of  improving  myself  in  it,  or  did  not,  at  all  times, 
do  as  much  as  lay  in  my  power  to  merit  the  promotion  I  am 
entitled  to  expect.  Xot  that  the  idea  of  promotion  should 
enter  into  competition  with  the  happiness  of  my  dearest  mo- 
ther, if,  as  I  said  before,  I  did  not  think  my  honour  and  cha- 
racter concerned.  I  am  of  my  brother's  and  Mr.  Ogilvie's 
opinion  concerning  a  lieutenancy  in  the  guards,  and  would  not 
accept  of  one  if  given  me  for  nothing. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  see  my  hopes  of  a  company  destroyed.  The 
Duke  of  Richmond,  in  saying  that  he  did  not  like  to  ask  a 
favour,  is,  I  thiuk,  wrong  ;  for,  as  a  minister,  he  does  not  ask 
a  favour,  the  thing  being  in  the  gift  of  the  ministry.  It  is  I 
who  receive  the  favour  from  his  majesty  or  his  ministry.  I 
shall,  however,  write,  to  thank  him  for  having  interested  him- 
self at  all  in  my  behalf,  hoping  that  ce  qui  est  differc  west  pas 
perdue.  I  think  my  dearest  mother  might  try  Lord  Shel- 
bourne,  who  seems  to  have  a  great  deal  of  interest  at  present. 
As  you,  however,  have  no  interest  to  give  him  in  return,  I  am 
afraid  there  is  not  much  hope.  If  I  cannot  get  this  company, 
what  I  mentioned  in  my  letter  of  February  is,  I  think,  very 
practicable,  and  what  I  should  like  still  better,  as  giving  me  a 
better  opportunity  of  doing  something  for  it  ;  for  here  there 
is  nothing  I  can  possibly  expect,  except  being  taken  by  Mon- 
sieur d'Estaing,  who  is  expected  out  every  day.  We  have  no 
troops  in  the  West  Indies,  either  to  act  or  expect  promotion 
with. 

*'  My  brother  wishes  me  to  come  home  next  spring  to  settle 
about  my  estate.  I  shall  tell  him  that  any  arrangement  he 
may  make  with  your  consent  I  shall  always  attend  to.  I  own, 
if  I  sell  entirely,  I  should  feel  afraid  of  myself ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  if  I  were  to  have  so  much  a-year  for  it,  I  think  I 
should  get  on  more  prudently.  If  it  could  be  settled  so  that 
I  might  have  so  much  ready  money,  and  so  much  a-year  for 
my  life,  I  should  like  it  better.  However,  you  may  be  sure  I 
shall  approve  of  any  thing  you  settle.  As  to  going  home,  I 
shall  certainly  not  go  home  about  it. 

"  I  like  the  idea  of  going  to  Aubigny  much,  and  am  not 
like  my  brotlier  Charles  in  hating  every  thing  French  :  on  the 
contrary,  I  have  made  a  second  trip  to  Martinique,  where  I 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  23 

spent  a  week  very  pleasantly.  I  met  there  with  a  very  agree- 
able young  man,  the  Due  de  Coigni's  son,  colonel  of  the  regi- 
ment de  Yiennois,  who  was  in  England  some  time.  I  am  to 
go  to  his  chateau  to  spend  some  time  with  him  whenever  we 
meet  in  France.  As  he  intends  coming  to  England  immedi- 
ately at  the  peace,  I  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  making  him 
known  to  you.  I  do  assure  you  that  when  I  go  to  Martin- 
ique I  am  received  as  well,  if  possible  better  than  I  should  be 
at  the  peace.     Believe  me, 

"  Dear,  dear  mother,  &c.  &c." 

Xot  long  after  the  date  of  the  above  extract  he  returned  to 
Ireland,  and,  a  dissolution  of  parliament  having  taken  place  in 
the  summer  of  this  year,  he  was  brought  in  by  the  Dnke  of 
Leinster  for  the  borough  of  Athy.  How  insipid  he  found  the 
life  he  was  now  doomed  to  lead,  after  the  stormy  scenes  in 
which  he  had  been -lately  engaged,  appears  from  various  pas- 
sages of  his  letters  at  this  time 

"  I  have  made,"  he  says,  in  a  letter  from  Carton,  (August 
3),  "  fifty  attempts  to  write  to  you,  but  have  as  often  failed, 
from  want  of  subject.  Really  a  man  must  be  a  clever  fellow 
who,  after  being  a  week  at  Carton,  and  seeing  nobody  but  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  B.  can  write  a  letter.  If  you  insist  on  letters,  I 
must  write  you  an  account  of  my  American  campaigns  over 
again,  as  that  is  the  only  thing  I  remember.  I  am  just  now 
interrupted  by  the  horrid  parson  ;  and  he  can  find  nothing  to 
do  but  sit  by  my  elbow." 

Again,  writing  to  his  mother,  who  was  then  in  England, 
he  says  : — 

''Sept.  1,  1783. 
"  I  cannot  give  a  good  account  of  my  studies,  nor  of  Black- 
stone  ;  but  I  hope  my  Black  Rock  scheme  will  help  that  also. 
You  cannot  think,  my  dearest  mother,  how  delighted  I  feel 
at  your  proof  of  love  for  me  in  not  going  abroad  ;  as  literally 
your  being  in  Ireland  is  the  only  thing  that  can  make  me 
happy  in  it.  If  it  were  not  for  you,  I  really  believe  I  should 
go  join  either  the  Turks  or  Russians  ;  for  I  find,  since  you 
are  gone,  this  home  life  very  insipid." 


24  MEMOIRS    OF 

For  the  two  following  years  we  are  left  wholly  unprovided 
with  that  only  safe  clew  through  the  lesser  details  of  life, 
w^hich  letters,  however  otherwise  unimportant,  furnish.  This 
chasm  in  his  lordship's  correspondence  with  his  family  is  thus, 
in  a  few  words,  interestingly  accounted  for  : — "  The  interrup- 
tion," says  Mr.  Ogilvie,  "in  the  correspondence  for  1784  and 
1785  arose  from  my  beloved  Edward  having  spent  these  two 
years  with  his  mother  and  me,  principally  at  Frescati,  but 
l^artly  in  Dublin  and  partly  also  in  London.  He  was  with  us, 
indeed,  wherever  we  went,  and  those  were  the  happiest  years 
of  any  of  our  lives." 

Being  now  anxious  to  improve,  by  a  regular  course  of 
study,  whatever  practical  knowledge  of  his  profession  he 
had  acquired,  he  resolved  to  enter  himself  at  Woolwich,  and 
at  the  beginning  of  1786  proceeded  to  England  for  that 
purpose. 

Young,  ardent,  and — to  a  degree  rare  in  man's  nature — 
affectionate,  it  was  not  likely  that  his  heart  should  remain 
long  unattached  among  the  beauties  of  the  gay  and  brilliant 
circle  he  now  moved  in  ;  and,  accordingly,  during  his  late  stay 
in  Dublin,  he  had  become,  as  he  thought,  deeply  enamoured 
of  the  Lady  Catharine  Mead,  second  daughter  of  the  Earl  of 
Clanwilliam,  who  was,  in  five  or  .six  years  after,  married  to 
Lord  Powerscourt.  To  this  lady,  under  the  name  of  "  Kate," 
he  alludes  in  the  following  correspondence  ;  and,  however 
little  that  class  of  fastidious  readers  who  abound  in  the 
present  day  may  be  inclined  to  relish  the  homely  style  and 
simple  feeling  of  these  letters,  there  are  many,  I  doubt  not, 
for  whom  such  unstudied  domestic  effusions — even  indepen- 
dently of  the  insight  they  afford  into  a  mind  destined  to  dare 
extraordinary  things — will  have  a  more  genuine  charm,  and 
awaken  in  them  a  far  readier  sympathy,  than  even  the  most 
ingenious  letters,  dictated,  not  by  the  heart,  but  head,  and 
meant  evidently  for  more  eyes  than  those  to  which  they  are 
addressed.  It  is,  besides,  important,  as  involving  even  higher 
considerations  than  that  of  justice  to  the  character  of  the 
individual  himself,  to  show  how  gentle,  generous,  light-hearted, 
and  affectionate  was  by  nature  the  disposition  of  him  whom  a 
deep  sense  of  his  country's  wrongs  at  length  drove  into  the 
van  of  desperate  rebellion,  and  brought,  in  the  full  prime  of 
all  his  noble  qualities,  to  the  grave. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  25 

In  few  of  his  delineations  of  character  is  Shakspeare  more 
true  to  nature  than  in  the  picture  of  a  warm,  susceptible 
temperament,  which  he  has  drawn  in  the  young  and  melan- 
choly Komeo  ; — melancholy,  from  the  very  vagueness  of  the 
wishes  that  haunt  him,  and  anticipating  the  passion  before  he 
has  yet  found  the  true  object  of  it.  In  something  of  the  same 
state  of  mind  was  Lord  Edward  at  this  period,  under  the  per- 
suasion that  he  had  now  formed  a  deep  and  unalterable 
attachment ;  and  the  same  sad  and  restless  feelings  were,  as 
the  followhig  letters  prove,  the  result  :— 


"  1786. 


"irr   DEAREST   MOTHER. 


"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  dear  affectionate 
letters  ;  they  made  me  happier  than  you  can  imagine.  You 
cannot  think  what  pleasure  it  gives  me  to  hear  from  Ireland. 
My  not  writing  to  you  was  entirely,  as  you  say,  because  I  de- 
pended upon  Ogilvie,  who,  I  am  sure,  can  give  you  a  much 
better  account  of  me  than  I  can  of  myself ;  for  I  really  forget 
every  thing  I  do.  ]S'othing  interests  me  enough  to  make  me 
remember  it.  I  get  up  in  the  morning  hating  every  thing, — 
go  out  with  an  intention  of  calling  on  somebody, — and  then 
with  the  first  person  I  meet  go  any  where,  and  stay  any  tune, 
without  thinking  the  least  what  I  am  about,  or  enjoying  the 
least  pleasure.  By  this  means  I  have  been  constantly  late 
for  dinner  wherever  I  have  dined.  By-the-by,  I  have  been 
engaged  every  day  to  dinner  somewhere  or  other  since  I  came  ; 
so  much  so,  that,  till  to-day,  Ogilvie  and  I  have  not  had  one 
quiet  dinner  together.  We  are,  however,  to  dine  to-day  tete- 
a-tete.  But  to  return  to  my  daily  proceedings  : — from  dinner 
somebody  or  other  (quite  indifferent  to  me  who)  carries  me 
to  wherever  I  am  asked,  and  there  I  stay  till  morning,  and 
come  home  to  bed  hating  every  thing  as  much  as  when  I  got 
up  and  went  out.  All  this  is,  however,  what  I  used  to  call  a 
life  of  pleasure.  I  have  been  at  balls  almost  every  night,  and, 
as  I  said  before,  always  stay  till  morning. 

"  Ogilvie  has  just  been  here,  and  read  your  letter  ;  he  says 
he  will  scold  you';  he  is  in  great  good-humour,  but  not  at  all 
soft  or  tender.  Dear  fellow  !  I  shall  be  very  sorry  wlien  he 
is  gone.  He  calls  here  every  morning,  and  I  find  it  the 
pleasantest  part  of  the   day.     I  make  him   talk  of  Kate, 


26  MEMOIRS    OF 

whether  he  will  or  not ;  and  indeed  of  you  all.  I  find,  now  I 
am  away,  I  like  you  all  better  than  I  thought  I  did.  I  am 
sorry  to  say  I  am  quite  tired  of  my  friends  in  London,  though 
they  have  been  as  kind  as  possible,  I  go  to  Woolwich  on 
Sunday. 

■*^  ^^  <^  ^^  ^^  ^^ 

'J*  ^1*  *?*  '^  ^^  ^^ 

"  I  have  not  seen  the  Siddons  yet,  nor  do  I  think  I  shall, 
as  I  go  out  of  town  so  soon.  I  never  think  of  going  to  any 
thing  pleasant  myself ;  I  am  led  to  it  by  somebody.  I  depend 
entirely  upon  other  people,  and  then  insensibly  7c  m^amuse;  but 
as  for  saying,  *  I  will  go  see  this,'  or  '  that  it  will  be  very 
pleasant,'  il  ne  m^ai-rive  jamais.  I  find  I  am  writing  a  very 
foolish,  tiresome  letter  :  pray  do  not  show  it  to  anybody. 

"Woolwich,  June  16,  1786. 

"  I  am  as  busy  as  ever  :  it  is  the  only  resource  I  have,  for 
I  have  no  pleasure  in  any  thing.  I  agree  with  you  perfectly 
in  trying  to  drive  away  care  ;  I  do  all  I  can,  but  do  not  suc- 
ceed. My  natural  good  spirits,  however,  and  the  hopes  of 
some  change,  keep  me  up  a  little.  If  I  thought  there  was  no 
hopes  of  the  latter,  I  believe  the  other  would  soon  give  way  ; 
and  1  should  be  very  unfit  for  this  place,  or  indeed  any  other, 
with  an  idea  of  doing  any  good  ;  for  I  should  not  then  care  a 
pin  about  what  happened  me,  either  in  fortune  or  person  ;  at 
least  so  I  think  now,  but  I  am  determined  to  give  myself  as 
long  a  trial  as  I  can  bear.  This  is  all  I  can  do,  as  long  as  I 
think  this  way.  I  hope  you  will  try  and  make  me  as  happy 
as  you  can  by  giving  accounts  in  your  letters. 

"  You  say  Henry  spends  all  the  night  with  *  *  and  her 
company.  I  suppose  by  that  he  goes  on  very  well.  I  wish 
him  success  with  all  my  heart.  The  cottage  party  will  be 
delightful  for  him.  Think  of  my  not  being  there  !  I  must 
comfort  myself  by  hoping  you  all  missed  me,  and  wished  for 
me.  Lady  Clan  will  certainly  have  been  there.  Are  you 
upon  your  high  horse  with  her,  or  are  you  gracious  ?  I  need 
not  say  I  hope  you  are  kind  to  pretty  dear  Kate  ;  I  am  sure 
you  are.  I  want  you  to  like  her  almost  as' much  as  I  do  ; — 
it  is  a  feeling  I  always  have  with  people  I  love  excessively. 
Did  you  not  feel  to  love  her  very  much,  and  wish  for  me, 
when  you  saw  her  look  pretty  at  the  cottage  ?     I  think  I  see 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  2*1 

you  looking  at  her,  and  saying  to  yourself,  '  I  wish  my  dear 
Eddy  was  here.'  One  does  not  know  how  much  one  loves 
people  till  we  find  ourselves  separated.  But  I  am  sure  I  must 
grow  stupid  ; — I  w^i'ite  as  if  yon  were  confined  at  Woolwich 
also,  and  in  the  same  spirits  as  I  am.'' 

"July  7,  1786. 

"  Now  Ogilvie  is  gone,  and  that  I  cannot  depend  upon  any- 
body to  give  you  some  account  of  me,  I  will  do  it  myself. 
By-the-by,  I  wish  Tony  could  write.  I  have  been  up  since 
before  six,  and  it  is  now  near  nine,  and  I  have  been  hard  at 
work  in  the  laboratory  pulverizing  saltpetre  ;  so  you  may 
guess  how  dreadfully  hungry  I  am.  You  cannot  conceive 
how  odd  the  life  I  lead  now  appears  to  me.  I  must  confess  if 
I  had  le  cxur  content,  I  should  like  best  the  idle,  indolent  one. 
Getting  up  between  11  and  12,  breakfasting  in  one's  jacket 
sans  souci,  se  fichant  du  monde,  and  totally  careless  and 
thoughtless  of  every  thing  but  the  people  one  loves,  is  a  very 
pleasant  life,  il  faiU  le  dire.  I  would  give  a  great  deal  for  a 
lounge  at  Frescati  this  morning. 

"  Y''ou  cannot  think  how  sorry  I  was  to  part  with  Ogilvie. 
I  begin  to  find  one  has  very  few  real  friends,  whatever  numljer 
of  agreeable  acquaintance  one  may  have.  Pray  do  not  let 
Ogilvie  spoil  you  ;  I  am  Sure  he  will  try,  crying,  '  Nonsense  ! 
fool  !  fool  !  all  imagination  ! — by  heavens  !  you  will  be  the 
ruin  of  that  boy.'  My  dear  mother,  if  you  mind  him,  and  do 
not  write  me  pleasant  letters,  and  always  say  something  of 
pretty  Kate,  I  will  not  answer  your  letters,  nor  indeed  write 
any  to  you.  I  believe  if  any  thing  can  make  me  like  writing 
letters,  Woolwich  will, — for  to  be  here  alone  is  most  melan- 
choly. However,  I  like  it  better  than  London,  and  am  not  in 
such  bad  spirits.  I  have  not  time  hardly.  In  my  evening's 
walk,  however,  I  am  as  bad  as  ever.  I  believe,  in  my  letter 
to  Henry,  I  told  him  how  I  passed  my  day  ;  so  shall  not 
begin  again.  You  will  see  by  that  what  my  evening's 
walk  is  ;  but,  upon  my  honour,  I  sometimes  think  of  you 
in  it. 

"  I  wish,  my  dear  mother,  you  would  insist  on  my  coming 
to  you  ; — but  stop — if  I  go  on  thus  thinking  and  writing,  I 
shall  be  very  unfit  for  mortars,  cannons,  &c.  So,  love  to 
everybody — God  bless  you  1" 


28  MEMOIRS    OF 

*  

In  the  summer  of  this  year,  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  being 
called  away'in  his  official  capacity,  on  a  tour  of  inspection  to 
the  islands  of  Guernsey,  Jersey,  kc,  took  Lord  Edward  with 
him  ;  and  it  will  be  seen  by  the  following  letter  that  the 
young  military  student  was  not  insensible  of  the  value  of  those 
opportunities  of  instruction  which  such  a  survey,  under  circum- 
stances so -favourable  to  inquiry  offered. 


"  MY  DEAREST  MOTHER, 


"St.  Heller,  July  31,  1786. 


"We  have  been  here  five  days,  and  are  to  stay  two  more, 
and  then  go  to  Cherbourg.  We  have  had  as  yet  a  very 
pleasant  time.  I  have  been  in  much  better  spirits,  every 
thing  being  new,  and  the  changes  of  scene  having  kept  me 
from  thinking  so  much.  I  shall  get  a  great  deal  of  knowledge 
of  a  part  of  my  profession  by  this  tour  ;  for  the  duke  goes 
about  looking  at  all  the  strong  posts,  and  I  have  an  opportu- 
nity of  hearing  him  and  Colonel  Moncrief  talk  the  matter  all 
over.  The  duke  and  he  are  at  present  employed  in  fixing 
some  works  that  are  to  be  built,  and  choosing  some  positions 
in  case  of  an  attack.  The  whole  tour  has  been  a  kind  of 
military  survey.  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  Cherbourg,  as  it  cer- 
tainly will  be  hereafter  a  very  famous  place,  by  the  works  that 
arc  erecting  there.  We  go  from  thence  to  Havre  for  Madame 
de  Chambise. 

"  Don't  you  think  I  may  come  home  after  this  tour  ?  I 
begin  now,  my  dearest  mother,  to  wish  much  to  see  you  ;  be- 
sides, I  think  that,  after  all  this,  I  could  do  a  great  deal  of 
good  at  Black  Rock  with  Mr.  Ogilvie,  as  my  mind  has  really 
taken  a.  turn  for  business.  Thinking  of  Kate  disturbs  me 
more  than  seeing  her  would  do.  I  do  really  love  her  more, 
if  possible,  than  when  I  left  you.  Have  you  seen  her  lately 
at  any  thing  ?  I  always  feel  happy  when  I  think  you  have 
seen  her  ;  because  it  must  put  her  in  mind  of  me.  Have  you 
seen  the  presents  yet  ?  Guilford  waited  till  he  got  some  also 
for  Lady  Anne,  that  she  might  not  be  jealous,  and  that  the 
thing  might  be  less  suspicious.  Kate  herself  thinks  that  it  is 
Guilford  that  gives  them  her.  I  made  Guilford  promise  not 
to  say  I  gave  them,  for  fear  she  should  not  take  them.  I 
must  come  home  ;  really,  my  dearest  mother,  it  is  the  only 
chance  I  have   against  la   dragonnc ;    for    you  see  by   her 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  29 

Speech  to  Ogilvie,  she  will  do  all  she  can  to  make  Kate  for- 
get me. 

"  Do  not  be  afraid  that  I  shall  do  no  good  in  Ireland  ;  you 
know  when  I  have  a  mind  to  study,  I  never  do  so  much  good 
as  when  I  am  with  Ogilvie.  I  could  go  over  all  my  mathe- 
matics (which  is  the  most  useful  thing  I  could  do)  much 
better  there  with  him  than  here  with  anybody  else.  I  know 
Ogilvie  will  be  against  my  coming  ;  but  no  matter, — you  will 
be  glad  to  have  me  on  any  terms,  and  I  am  never  so  happy 
as  when  with  you,  dearest  mother  :  you  seem  to  make  every 
distress  lighter,  and  I  bear  every  thing  better,  and  enjoy 
every  thing  more  when  with  you.  I  must  not  grow-  senti- 
mental ;  so  good-by,  dearest  of  mothers.  IS^o  one  can  love 
you  more  than  &c." 

"  Goodwood,  August  8,  1786. 
"dearest  mother, 

"We  arrived  here  the  day  before  yesterday.  Our  tour 
has  been  shorter  than  at  first  intended.  We  came  last  from 
the  island  of  Sark,  which  we  meant  only  to  visit  in  our  way 
to  Alderney,  where  we  were  to  part  with  the  dutchess,  who 
was  to  sail  for  England  in  a  small  vessel  we  had  with  us  ; 
while  the  duke  and  the  rest  of  us  went  in  a  yacht  to  Cher- 
bourg ;  but  the  wind  came  on  so  strong,  the  duke  was  afraid 
to  let  the  dutchess  go  in  the  small  vessel,  and  thought  it  better 
to  return  with  her  ;  I  never  was  so  disappointed  in  my  life, — 
I  had  set  my  heart  on  seeing  Cherbourg  with  the  duke  and 
Colonel  Moncrief.  The  duke  goes  to  London  to-day,  stays 
there  a  few  days,  then  goes  to  Portsmouth,  from  whence  he 
sails  to  bring  Madame  de  Cambise.  I  had  intended,  during 
the  time  he  was  doing  all  this,  to  go  to  Moncrief  at  Ports- 
mouth ;  but  alas  !  walking  yesterday  evening,  I  sprained  my 
ankle  violently,  and  am  not  able  to  stir  :  I  am  afraid  I  shall 
be  laid  up  for  a  week  or  ten  days,  at  least.  I  do  think,  what 
with  legs  and  other  things,  I  am  the  most  unlucky  dog  that 
ever  was.  However,  I  intend  to  make  the  best  of  my  misfor- 
tune, and  take  the  opportunity  of  beginning  a  course  of  me- 
chanics with  Mr.  Baly  :  the  duke  and  he  both  say  that  if  I 
apply  hard,  in  the  course  of  three  months  I  should  have  a 
pretty  tolerable  knowledge  of  them.  Mr.  Baly  says,  to  do  it 
properly,  I  should  go  over  again  some  of  my  Euclid  and  alge- 


30  MEMOIRS    OF 

bra,  both  of  which,  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  I  have  pretty  nearly 
forgot.  I  wish  I  had  my  booths  here,  they  would  be  of  great 
use  to  me  now. 

*'  What  do  you  think  of  this  scheme,  is  it  practicable  for 
me  ?  do  you  think  I  have  resolution  or  application  enough  to 
give  the  attention  that  will  be  necessary  ?  Stoke  is  within 
three  miles — very  tempting  ;  this  place  will  be  by-and-by  full 
of  company  ;  the  shooting  will  be  going  on  :  all  these  things 
may  draw  me  off, — je  siiis  foihh  ;  the  duke  himself  may,  per- 
haps, be  going  about,  and  will  wish  me  to  follow  him  :  I  never 
do  good  in  that  way.  Let  me  know  what  you  advise.  I  find 
every  day  that  the  knowledge  of  mathematics  is  absolutely 
necessary  in  every  thing  that  an  officer  should  know  ;  and  as 
I  have  a  good  foundation,  it  is  a  pity  I  should  not  improve  it. 
If  I  have  resolution  to  apply,  this  is  a  good  and  pleasant  op- 
portunity ;  but  I  am  doubtful  of  myself.  In  turning  all  tliis 
over  in  my  head,  a  scheme  has  occurred  to  me,  which  I  know 
would  be  the  best  thing  in  the  world  for  me,  could  I  but  put 
it  in  execution  ;  but  then  it  requires  a  great  effort.  You 
know  I  have  from  the  latter  end  of  August  till  January,  when 
the  parliament  meets,  four  months  ;  what  do  you  think  of  my 
spending  that  time  at  some  university  in  Scotland  ?  it  cer- 
tainly is  the  best  place  for  the  branch  of  learning  I  want  ; 
there  I  should  not  be  so  easily  drawn  off ;  I  should  have  my 
masters  cheap,  live  cheap,  and  be  able  to  give  my  whole  mind 
to  the  business.  But  I  cannot  bear  the  thoughts  of  seeing 
none  of  vou  for  four  months  ;  and  then,  Kate — I  do  not  know 
what  to  do — pray  write  and  advise  me. 

"  You  say  in  your  letter  that  Lady  Clanwilliam  goes  to  the 
country  for  the  autumn  ;  if  she  goes  to  the  north,  how  plea- 
sant !  I  might  then  be  with  dearest  Harry,  and  see  her  very 
often.  It  is  now  three  months  since  I  have  seen  you,  dearest 
mother,  and  four  more  is  a  great  while.  If  you  go  abroad,  I 
go  with  you,  I  am  determined,  and  stay  with  you  till  the 
parliament  meets.  I  hope  Henry  will  come  too  ;  I  long  to 
see  him.  What  becomes  of  dear  Robert  ?  I  hate  missing 
him  ;  I  wish  he  would  come  here. 

"  I  hope  you  got  my  letters  safe  from  Guernsey  and  Jersey  ; 
I  got  two  of  your  dear  letters  here  ;  how  happy  they  made 
me  ! — but  you  said  very  Httle  of  pretty  Kate  :  I  do  not  think 
you  like  her  enough,  my  dearest  mother  ;  I  want  you  to  love 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  31 

her  as  much  as  I  do.  Pray  tell  me  really  what  you  think  of 
her  ?  yet  I  am  afraid, — but  no  matter,  speak — if  you  should 
find  fault, — but  it  is  impossil^le,  you  must  love  her.  Show  the 
sensible  part  of  this  letter  to  Mr.  Ogilvie,  but  none  of  the 
last.  He  says,  tout  court,  in  his  letter,  '  she  drank  tea  here,' 
— did  not  you  think  of  me  ?  Tdl  truth,  did  she  think  of  me 
at  all  ?  for  I  am  sure  you  observed.  Your  words,  '  if  she 
only  likes  you,'  frighten  me  ;  if  it  is  only  that,  I  dread  her 
mother's  influence, — it  is  very  strong.  Suppose  you  were 
here,  and  to  say  to  me,  '  if  you  ever  think  of  that  girl,  I  will 
never  forgive  you,'  what  should  I  do  ?  even  I,  who  dote  on 
Kate  ;  and  then,  if  she  only  likes  me,  I  am  sure  being  there 
would  be  of  no  use  to  me.     God  bless  you,  &c." 


"my   DEAREST    MOTHER, 


"  Stoke,  August  19,  1 '7  86. 


*^#  ^i^  nj^  ^^  ^^0 

rf^  «^  ^^  ^^  ^^ 

"  Now  I  have  given  you  all  the  answer  I  can  at  present,  I 
will  talk  a  little  of  myself.  You  will  find,  by  my  last,  that  I 
intend  going  with  you,  in  case  you  go  ;  for  being  in  Ireland, 
and  not  seeing  Kate,  I  should  hate.  Though  I  have  been 
here  ever  since  the  duke  went,  I  am  as  constant  as  ever,  and 
go  on  doting  upon  her  ;  this  is,  I  think,  the  greatest  proof  I 
have  given  yet.  Being  here  has  put  me  in  much  better 
spirits,  they  are  so  delightful.  I  dote  on  G  *  *  ;  the  other 
two  have  been  at  Selsey,  but  come  back  to-day.  We  all  go 
tc  a  ball  at  Mr.  Barnwell's.  Y"ou  see  by  the  beginning  of 
this  letter  I  am  a  favourite  of  Lady  Louisa  ;  she  has  been 
pleasanter  than  any  thing  can  be  ;  I  love  her  very  much. 

"  I  have  not  been  so  happy  since  I  left  Frescati  as  I  have 
been  here.  Do  not  be  afraid  that  I  am  idle  ;  I  get  up  at  five 
o'clock  every  morning,  go  to  Goodwood,  and  stay  and  study 
with  Mr.  Baly  till  two,  and  return  here  to  dine.  Y"ou  cannot 
think  how  much  I  like  the  thouglits  of  going  abroad  with 
you,  and  being  once  more  comfortably  settled  with  you  ;  be- 
sides, now  I  am  in  a  good  habit,  I  can  do  a  great  deal  with 
Mr.  Ogilvie.  I  am  sorry  to  find  dear  little  Gerald  is  in  bad 
apirits.  I  shall  write  to  him,  as  I  think  nothing  does  one  more 
good  when  in  that  way  than  getting  letters  from  anybody  one 
hkes.     Good-by,  dearest  mother. 

"  Yours,  &c." 


32  MEMOIllS    OF 

"  Goodwood,  Sept.  2,  1786. 
"my  dearest  mother, 

"I  received  your  letter  from  Carton  yesterday.  I  cannot 
write  to  Soj)liia  to  g'ivc  her  any  advice  ;  it  is  one  of  tliose 
cases  where  friends  ouii'ht  to  be  verv  cantious  what  they  do  ; 
the  persons  concerneil,  1  tiiink,  are  always  the  best  jndges  ; 
it  neither  retjnires  cleverness,  or  parts,  or  knowledge  to  know 
what  will  make  one  hajipy  or  unhappy.  I  should  never 
answer  it  to  myself  hereafter,  if,  from  taking  my  advice,  she 
found  herself  in  the  least  degree  unhap})y.  Pray  write  me 
word  how  things  go  on  ; — I  own  I  am  afraid.  At  the  same 
time,  dearest  {Sophy  has  so  much  feeling,  and  so  much  heart, 
that  the  least  thing  will  make  her,  perhaps,  hai)py  or  unhappy 
for  ever  ;  if  she  was  not  so  very  sensible,  1  should  not  be  near 
so  afraid  about  her.  My  dearest  mother,  she  has  all  your 
tenderness  and  sensibility  without  your  good  understanding 
and  excellent  judgment  to  manage  it.  ^'ot  that  I  think  her 
deficient  in  either  the  one  or  the  other,  and  should,  indeed,  be 
sorry  to  see  her  get  more  of  either  quality,  if  she  was  to  give 
up  the  least  of  her  good  heart  for  it.  lieing  at  a  distance 
makes  me  serious  about  it.  If  I  were  with  you,  I  am  afraid 
I  should  be  ^larplot,  and  giggle  a  little. 

"  I  am  glad  sweetest  Kate  is  grown  fat.  1  love  her  more 
than  any  thing  yet,  though  I  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  G  '*'  *. 
I  own  fairly  1  am  not  in  such  bad  spirits  as  I  was,  particularly 
when  I  am  with  G  '*'  ''',  whom  I  certainly  love  better  than 
any  of  her  sisters.  However,  I  can  safely  say,  I  have  not 
been  infulelle  to  Kate, — whenever  I  thought  of  her,  which  I 
do  very  often,  though  not  so  constantly  as  usual  :  this  entirely 
between  von  and  me.  The  duke  goes  again  to  Tortsmouth 
to-morrow,  and  I  go  with  him  :  we  are  only  to  stay  a  day 
there.  He  does  not  like  to  give  up  his  shooting  :  while  he  is 
out  shooting,  I  always  attend  little  Baly.  I  go  on  very  well, 
and  the  duke  is,  I  believe,  very  well  pleased  with  me.  There 
is  nobody  here  yet  but  Madame  de  Cambise,  who  is  a  delight- 
ful creature  :  I  am  grown  very  fond  of  her.  I  am  becoming 
quite  impatient  to  see  you,  now  that  I  expect  you.  I  love 
nothing  in  comparison  to  you,  my  dearest  mother,  after  all. 

"  Yours,  &c." 

Dm'iug  the  absence  of  the  duke,  Lord  Edward  passed  his 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  33 

time  chiefly  at  *  *,  the  seat  of  Lord  *  *,  which  was  not  far 
from  Goodwood  ;  and  the  tone  of  the  letters  he  wrote  from 
thence  mu.st  have  suflieiently  prepared  his  mother's  mind 
for  the  important  change  his  aiiectious  were  now  about  to 
undergo. 

I  have  already  remarked  that,  in  tiie  state  of  Lord  Ed 
ward's  mind,  at   this  period, — in  the  fond  restlessness  with 
which,  enamoured  more  in  fancy  than  in  heart,  he  dwells  upon 
the  image  of  his  absent  "  Kate," — there  is  something  akin  to 
the  mood  in  which  the  great  painter  of  human  passions  has 
described  his  youthful  lover  as  indulging,  when  first  brought 
upon  the  scene,  before  the  strong  and  aljsorbing  passion  tiiat 
was  to  have  such  influence  over  his  destiny  took  possession  of 
him.     The  poet  well  knew  that,  in  natures  of  this  kind,  a  first 
love  is  almost  always  but  a  rehearsal  for  the  second  ;  that 
imagination  must  act  as  taster  to  the  heart,  before  the  true 
"thirst  from  the  soul"  is  called  forth,  and  that,  accordingly, 
out  of  this  sort  of  inconstancy  to  one  object  is  oftenest  seen  to 
spring  the  most  passionate,  and  even  constant,  devotion  to 
another.     An  ordinary  painter  of  character  would  not  only 
have  shrunk  from  the  risk  of  exhibiting  his  hero  so  fickle,  but 
would  have  gladly  availed  himself  of  the  romantic  interest 
which  a  picture  of  first  love  and  singleness  of  affection  is 
always  sure  to  inspire.     But,  besides  that,  in  Juliet,  he  had 
an  opportunity  of  presenting  a  portraiture  of  this  kind,  such 
as  no  hand  ever  before  sketched,  he  was  well  aware  that  in 
man's  less  pliant  heart,  even  where  most  susceptible,  a  greater 
degree  of  previous  softening  is  required,  before  it  can  thus 
suddenly  and,  at  the  same  time,  deeply  be  penetrated  ;  and 
that  it  was  only  by  long  dwelling,  in  imagination,  upon  a 
former  love  that  his  hero's  mmd  could  l)e  supposed  to  have 
attained  such  a  pitch  of  excitement  as,  at  first  sight,  to  drink 
in  an  intoxication  of  passion  which  has  rendered  the  lovers 
themselves,    and   the   poet    that   has   commemorated   them, 
immortal. 

How  entirely  in  nature,  and  in  the  nature  too  of  ordinary 
life,  is  this  delineation  of  the  dramatist's  fancy,  cannot  be 
more  clearly  exemplified  than  in  the  process  by  which  Lord 
Edward's  excitable  heart  now  found  itself  surprised  into  a 
passion  which  became  afterward  such  a  source  of  pain  and 
disappointment  to  him  ;  which,  by  the  cloud  it  threw  over  his 


34  MEMOIRS    OF 

naturally  joyous  disposition,  first  conduced,  perhaps,  to  give 
his  mind  a  somevvliat  severer  turn,  and  to  incliue  it  towards 
those  inquiries  into  the  state  of  "  tiie  world  and  tlie  w^orld's 
law,"  which,  at  length,  actiug  upon  his  generous  and  couscien- 
tious  nature,  enlisted  him  in  ihe  cause  to  which  he  ultimately 
fell  a  sacrifice. 

The  rapid  progress  already  made  by  the  charms  of  Miss 
*  *, — uncousciously  on  her  part,  and  almost  equally  so,  at 
the  beginuing,  on  his, — in  effacing  the  vivid  impression  left 
by  a  former  object,  is  described  in  the  foregomg  extracts 
more  naturally  than  it  could  be  in  any  other  words.  For 
some  time  he  continued  to  struggle  agamst  this  new  fascina- 
tion ;  and,  though  without  any  of  those  obligations  to  con- 
stancy which  a  return  of  his  first  love  might  have  imposed, 
seemed  reluctant  to  own,  even  to  himself,  that  his  aifections 
could  be  so  easily  unrooted.  The  charm,  however,  was  too 
powerful  to  be  thus  resisted  ;  and  the  still  fainter  aud  tainter 
mention  of  Lady  Catharine  in  his  letters,  till  at  length  her 
name  wholly  disappears,  marks  as  plainly  the  gradual  disaf- 
fection of  his  heart  as  the  deserted  sands  tell  the  slow  ebbing 
of  the  tide. 

In  the  autumn  of  this  year  the  Dutchess  of  Leinster  and 
her  family  arrived  in  England,  on  their  way  to  the  Continent, 
— meaning  to  pass  the  summer  months  at  Nice,  aud  in  the 
south  of  i'rauce, — and  to  Lord  Edward  was  intrusted  the 
task  of  securing  lodgings  for  her  grace  at  Chichester.  The 
hospitality,  however,  of  the  noble  owners  of  Goodwood  and 
Stoke  would  not  hear  of  her  sojourning  elsewhere  than  under 
their  roofs.  In  writing  to  announce  this  determination  to  his 
mother,  he  concludes  his  letter  thus  : — 

"  Do  not  stay  long  at  Oxford,  for  if  you  do  I  shall  die  with 
impatience  before  you  arrive.  I  can  hardly  write,  I  am  so 
happy.  I  do  not  at  all  envy  you  seeing  Mrs.  Siddons  ;  I 
cannot  envy  anybody  at  this  moment,  for  I  certainly  am  the 
happiest  dog  in  the  world.  Think  of  seeing  Henry,  Sophia, 
and  you,  all  in  one  day  !  I  may  as  well  stop,  for  I  cannot 
write." 

Ou  the  departure  of  his  mother  and  sisters  for  Nice,  Lord 
Edward  accompanied  them,  aud  remained  there  till  the  open- 
ing of  parliament  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  attend  his 
public  duties  in  Ireland.     On  the   few  important   questions 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  35 


that  were  brought,  during  this  session,  before  the  house,  his 
name  is  invariably  to  be  found  in  the  very  small  minority 
which  the  stock  of  Irish  patriotism,  at  this  time  but  scanty, 
supplied.  From  the  opinions,  too,  respecting  his  brother 
legislators,  which  he  expresses  in  the  following  letter,  it  will 
be  seen  that  the  standard  by  whidi  he  judged  of  public  men 
and  their  conduct  was,  even  at  this  period,  of  no  very  accom- 
modating nature  ;  and  that  the  seeds  of  that  feeling  which,  in 
after-days,  broke  out  into  indignant  revolt,  were  already  fast 
ripening.  His  animadversions  here  upon  what  he  calls  the 
"  shabby "  behaviour  of  his  uncle,  Mr.  Conolly,  refer  to  the 
line  taken  by  that  gentleman  on  the  question  of  the  Riot  Bill 
— a  bill  which  Mr.  Wolfe  declared  to  be  "  so  hostile  to  the 
liberties  of  the  people,  that  every  man  should  raise  his  voice 
and  almost  wield  his  sword  against  it."  On  this  measure 
Mr.  Conolly  took  part  with  the  Castle,  and  opposed  an 
amendment  to  the  bill  moved  by  Mr.  O'Neil.  Upon  a  pro- 
posal, too,  by  Mr.  Grattan  for  a  resolution  concerning  tithes, 
Mr.  Conolly  again  appears  among  the  supporters  of  govern- 
ment ;  while  the  name  of  Lord  Edward  is  found,  as  usual, 
shining  by  the  side  of  those  of  Grattan  and  Curran,  among 
that  small  but  illustrious  band, — "  the  few  fine  flushes  of 
departing  day," — that  gave  such  splendour  to  the  last  mo- 
ments of  Ireland  as  a  nation.  The  following  is  the  extract  of 
Lord  Edward's  letter  to  which  I  refer  : — • 

"  Dublin,  February  26th,  1787. 
"  You  desire  me  to  give  you  an  account  of  myself ;  I  do 
not  think  you  could  ask  a  more  difficult  thing,  for  though  I 
have  been  doing  nothing  but  the  common  John-trot  things, 
yet  I  have  been  thinking  of  a  great  many  others,  both  serious 
and  trivial,  and  to  give  an  account  of  one's  thoughts  requires 
a  better  pen  than  mine.     I  have  been  greatly  disappointed 
about  politics,  though  not  dispirited.     Ogilvie,  I  dare  say,  has 
told  you  how  ill  we  have  gone  on.     Conolly,  I  think,  behaved 
shabbily,  and  as  long  as  the  Bishop  Cloyne  has  got  hold  of 
him,  he  will  do  no  good.     We  came  over  so  sanguine  from 
England,  that  one  feels  the  disappointment  the  more.     Wil- 
liam is  behaving  as  well  as  possible  ;  so  that,  by  perseverance 
and  steadiness,  I  am  sure  we  shall  get  right  again.     When 
one  has  any  great  object  to  carry,  one  must  expect  disappoint- 


36  MEMOIRS    OF 

ments,  aud  not  be  diverted  from  one's  object  by  them,  or  even 
appear  to  mind  them.  I  therefore  say  to  everybody  that  I 
think  we  are  going  on  well.  The  trnth  is,  the  people  one  has 
to  do  with  are  a  bad  set.  I  mean  the  ichoh ;  for  really  I 
believe  those  we  act  with  are  the  best.  All  this  is  between 
you  and  me  :  you  must  u(it  mention  any  thing  of  it  even  to 
Mr.  Ogilvie,  for  even  to  him  I  put  on  a  good  face,  and  try  to 
appear  not  disappointed  or  dispirited." 

In  the  determination  here  expressed,  as  politic  as  it  is 
manly,  not  only  to  persevere,  in  spite  of  disgust  and  difficulty, 
towards  the  object  he  had  in  view,  but  even  to  assume  an  air 
of  confidence  in  his  cause  when  most  hopeless  of  it,  we  have  a 
feature  of  his  character  disclosed  to  us  which  more  than  any 
other,  perhaps,  tended  to  qualify  him  for  the  enterprise  to 
which,  fatally  for  himself,  he  devoted  the  latter  years  of  his 
life.  In  a  struggle  like  that,  of  which  the  chances  were  so 
uncertain,  and  where  some  of  the  instruments  necessary  to 
success  were  so  little  cons-enial  to  his  nature,  it  is  easv  to  con- 
ceive  how  painfully  often  he  must  have  had  to  summon  up  the 
self-command  here  described,  to  enable  him  to  hide  from  those 
embarked  with  him  his  own  hopelessness  and  disgust. 

In  another  part  of  the  same  letter,  he  thus,  with  a  depth 
and  delicacy  of  filial  tenderness  which  few  hearts  have  ever 
felt  so  strongly,  addresses  his  beloved  mother  : 

"  You  cannot  think  how  I  feel  to  want  vou  here.  I  dined 
and  slept  at  Frescati  the  other  day,  Ogilvie  and  I  tete-a-tcte. 
We  talked  a  great  deal  of  you.  Though  the  place  makes  me 
melancholy,  yet  it  gives  one  pleasant  feelings.  To  be  sure, 
the  going  to  bed  without  wishing  you  a  good-night  :  the 
coming  down  in  a  morning,  and  not  seeing  you  ;  the  saunter- 
ing about  in  the  fine  sunshine,  looking  at  your  flowers  and 
shrubs  without  you  to  lean  upon  one,  was  all  very  bad  indeed. 
In  settling  my  journey  there,  that  evening,  I  determined  to 
see  you  in  my  way,  supposing  you  were  even  a  thousand  miles 
out  of  it ; — and  now  coolly,  if  I  can  afford  it,  I  certainly  will." 

A  subsequent  letter  (March  3d)  relating  chiefly  to  some 
domestic  misfortune  which  had  befallen  a  French  family  of 
his  acquaintance,  contains  passages  full  of  the  same  filial 
fondness,  which  all  mothers,  at  least,  will  thank  me  for  ex- 
tractmg  : 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  3*7 

"  It  is  time  for  me  to  go  to  Frescati.  Why  are  not  you 
there,  dearest  of  mothers "/  but  it  feels  a  little  like  seeing  you 
too  to  go  there.  We  shall  talk  a  great  deal  of  you.  I  assure 
you  I  miss  you  in  Ireland  very,  very  much.  I  am  not  half  so 
merry  as  I  should  be  if  you  were  here.  I  get  tired  of  every 
thing,  and  want  to  have  you  to  go  and  talk  to.  You  are, 
after  all,  what  I  love  best  in  the  world.  I  always  return  to 
you,  and  find  it  is  the  only  love  I  do  not  deceive  myself  in.  I 
love  you  more  than  I  think  I  do, — but  I  will  not  give  way  to 
such  thoughts,  for  it  always  makes  me  grave.  I  really  made 
myself  miserable  for  two  days  since  I  left  you,  by  this  sort  of 
retlectious  ;  and  in  thinking  over  with  myself  what  misfortunes 
I  could  bear,  I  found  there  was  one  I  could  not ; — but  God 
bless  you." 

It  had  been  his  intention,  as  soon  as  released  from  his  par- 
liamentary duties,  to  rejoin  the  dutchess  at  ]S'ice,  and  from 
thence  proceed,  in  the  summer,  to  meet  his  friends  M.  and 
Madame  de  Levis,  and  the  Puysegurs,  in  Switzerland. 
"This,"  he  says,  in  one  of  his  letters,  "is  my  pleasant; /oo/i^A 
plan  ; — it  would  certainly  be  charming.  My  sensible  plan  is 
to  go  and  stay  at  Woolwich  till  autumn,  and  then  meet  you 
all  at  Paris.  If  I  do  the  latter  (which  I  do  not  think  I  shall, 
for  it  is  a  great  deal  too  wise),  I  should  come  to  Paris  with 
great  eclat,  for  I  should  by  that  time  be  very  rich,  and  be 
able  to  live  away  a  little,  so  far  as  keeping  horses  aud  a 
phaeton.  The  other  plan  would  oblige  me  to  live  rather  eco- 
nomically at  Paris.  Pray  consider  my  case,  and  take  Madame 
de  Levis  into  the  consultation,  for  she  can,  I  know,  give  very 
good  advice." 

Instead  of  either  of  the  projects  here  contemplated,  a  visit 
to  Gibraltar,  with  the  ulterior  object  of  a  journey  through 
Spain  and  Portugal,  was  the  plan  upon  which  he  at  length 
decided  for  his  summer  .tour. 

From  Gibraltar,  where  he  appears  to  have  arrived  about 
the  latter  end  of  May,  he  thus  writes  to  the  dutchess  : — 


"  Gibraltar. 


"ilY    DEAREST    MOTHER, 


"I  am  delighted  with  this  place  ;  never  was  any  thing 
better  worth  seeing,  either  taking  it  in  a  military  light,  or 
merely  as  a  matter  of  curiosity.     I  cannot  describe  it  at  all 


38  MEMOIRS    OF 

as  it  merits.     Conceive  an  immense  liigb  rugged  rock,  sepa- 
rated by  a  small  neck  of  land  from  a  vast  track  of  moun- 
tainous or  rather  hilly  country,  whose  large,   broad,  sloping 
eminences,  with  a  good  deal  of  verdure,  make  a  strong  con- 
trast with  the  sharp,  steep  rock  of  the  place.     Yet  when  you 
come  on  the  rock,  you  tind  part  of  it  capable  of  very  high 
cultivation  ;  it  will   in  time    be  a  little   paradise.     Even  at 
present,  in  the  midst  of  some  of  the  wildest,  rockiest  parts, 
you  find  charming  gardens,  surrounded  with  high  hedges  of 
geraniums,  filled  with  orange,  balm,  sweet  oleander,  myrtle, 
cedar,  Spanish  broom,  roses,  honeysuckles,  in  short,  all  the 
charming  plants  of  both  our  own  country  and  others.     Con- 
ceive all  this,  collected  in  different  spots  of  the  highest  barren 
rock  perhaps  you  ever  beheld,  and  all  in  luxuriant  vegetation  ; 
on  one  side  seeing,  with  a  fine  basin  between  you,  the  green 
hills  of  Andalusia,  with  two  or  three  rivers  emptying  them- 
selves into  the  bay  ;  on  another  side,  the  steep,  rugged,  and 
high  land  of  Barbary,  and  the  whole  strait  coming  under  your 
eye  at  once,  and  then  a  boundless  view  of  the  Mediterranean  ; 
all  the  sea  enlivened  with  shipping,  and  the  laud  with  the 
sight  of  your  own  soldiers,  and  the  sound  of  drums  and  fifes, 
and  all  other  military  music  : — to  crown  all,  the  finest  climate 
possible.     Really,  walking  over  the  higher  parts  of  the  rock, 
either  in  the  morning  or  evening  (in  the  midday  all  is  quiet, 
on  account  of  the  heat),  gives  ones  feelings  not  to  be  de- 
scribed, making  one  proud  to  think  that  here  you  are  a  set  of 
islanders  from  a  remote  corner  of  the  world,  surrounded  by 
enemies  thousands  of  times  your  numbers,  yet,  after  all  the 
strug^-les,  both  of  them  and  the  French  to  beat  you  out  of  it, 
keeping  it  in  spite  of  all  their  efibrts.     All  this  makes  you 
appear  to  yourself  great  and  proud, — and  yet,  again,  when 
you  contemplate  the  still  greater  greatness  of  the  scene,  the 
immense  depth  of  the  sea  under  you,  the  view  of  an  extensive 
tract  of  land,  whose  numerous  inhabitants  are  scarcely  known, 
— the  feeling  of  pride  is  then  gone,  and  the  littleness  of  your 
own  works  in  comparison  with  those  of  nature  makes  you 
feel  yourself  as  nothing.     But  I  will  not  say  any  more,  for 
every  thing  must  fall  far  short  of  what  is  here  seen  and  felt. 

"  I  really  think  if  one  had  all  the  people  one  liked  here, 
one  could  live  charmingly.  The  general  gives  all  officers  that 
choose  gardens,  and  numbers  have  got  them.     Vegetation  is 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERAIJ).  39 

SO  quick  that  you  can  liave  peas,  beans,  and  French  beans  in 
five  weeks  after  you  plant  them  :  you  have  a  very  tolerable 
tree  in  three  years  ;  })0plars,  in  two,  grow  to  a  great  size. 
O'Hara  and  I  walk  the  whole  day,  from  five  in  the  morning 
till  eight  or  nine  at  night  ;  he  is  pleasanter  than  ever,  and 
enters  into  all  one's  ideas,  fanciful  as  well  as  comical.  We 
divert  ourselves  amazingly  with  all  the  people  here  ;  but  this 
is  when  he  is  not  '  all  over  general,'  as  he  calls  it.  Elliot 
dotes  on  him,  and  says  he  goes  away  content,  as  he  leaves  the 
garrison  in  the  liands  of  such  an  able  ofiBcer.  Elliot  is,  from 
what  I  have  seen  of  him,  a  delightful  man,  and  an  excellent 
officer  ;  he  talks  highly  of  Robert,  I  feel  grown  quite  a 
soldier  again  since  I  came  to  this  place,  and  should  like  to  be 
in  a  regiment  here  very  much.  I  shall  stay  here  about  ten 
days  longer  at  most  ;  then  go  to  Cadiz,  by  way  of  Tavira 
through  Portugal,  to  avoid  a  quarantine  which  the  Spaniards 
lay -on  this  place. 

"  I  wrote  you  the  other  day  a  letter,  which  I  was  ashamed 
to  send  ;  I  had  got  up,  'particularly  fond  of  you,  and  had  de- 
termined to  give  up  all  improvement  whatever,  and  set  out  to 
you  by  the  shortest  road  without  stopping.  I  have  now  set- 
tled my  tour,  so  that  I  hope  to  be  with  you  in  July  ;  that  I 
may  accomplish  it,  I  shall  give  up  my  visit  to  Madrid  and 
Granada,  and  take  them  some  other  time.  I  really  cannot 
stay  much  longer  without  seeing  you.  If  I  feel  thus  here,  you 
may  guess  how  much  stronger  it  will  be  when  I  leave  this 
place,  and  am  left  to  myself.  Often  when  I  see  a  ship  sailing, 
I  think  how  glad  I  should  be  if  I  were  aboard,  and  on  my 
passage  to  you.  I  have  got  some  seed  of  a  beautiful  plant 
that  grows  like  ivy,  with  a  purple  flower  and  fine  smell  ;  it  is 
called  dolcom  ;  I  never  saw  any  at  home  :  I  think  it  will  do 
very  well  for  your  passage  at  Frescati.     God  bless  you. 

"  Yours  affectionately, 

"E.  F. 

"  A  dreadful  scrawl,  but  I  am  in  haste.  I  am  to  dine  with 
a  dreadful  Mrs.  S.,  who  has  been  up  to  the  elbows  in  custards 
to  receive  the  general." 

At  Lisbon,  to  which  city  he  next  proceeded, — wishing  to 
have  a  glimpse  of  Portugal  before  he  pursued  his  journey  into 
Spain, — he  was  lucky  enough  to  make  acquaintance  with  some 


40  MEMOIRS   OF 

of  the  principal  Portug-uese  nobility  ;  and  as  his  frank,  popular 
manners,  even  still  more  than  his  personal  beauty  and  rank, 
secured  him  a  welcome  reception  wherever  he  became  known, 
he  found  the  society  of  this  city  so  agreeable  as  to  induce  him 
to  delay  longer  there  than  he  intended. 

From  all  the  places  which  he  now,  in  succession,  visited, — 
Cadiz,  Granada,  Madrid,  &c. — he  still  wrote,  as  usual,  punc- 
tually to  his  mother  ;  and  through  all  his  letters,  unpretending 
as  they  are  in  a  literary  point  of  view,  there  still  breathes, 
with  unfailing  charm,  the  same  spirit  of  enjoyment,  the  same 
natural  freshness  both  of  mind  and  heart.  To  beauty,  in  all 
its  visible  forms,  whether  in  the  varied  scenery  of  nature,  the 
simple  grace  of  children,  or  that  most  perfect  of  its  manifesta- 
tions, woman's  loveliness,  he  had  a  heart  peculiarly  suscepti- 
ble ;  and  among  the  themes  he  chiefly  dwells  on  in  these 
letters,  are  the  enchanting  views  of  the  country,  the  mirth  and 
prettiness  of  the  little  Andalusian  children  with  their  guitars, 
the  graceful  mixture  of  song  and  dance  in  the  seguidillas  of 
the  female  peasants,  and,  occasionally,  a  comparative  estimate 
of  the  respective  claims  of  the  women  of  Portugal  and  Spain 
to  beauty.  His  manner  of  travelling  was  highly  characteristic 
of  his  simple  and  independent  mind.  "  I  am,"  he  says, 
"  charmed  with  the  people  here  ;  and  by  the  way  I  travel  I 
see  a  great  deal  of  them.  I  always  set  out  about  three  in  the 
evening  and  travel  till  one  or  two  ;  and  as  I  do  not  sleep  as 
much  as  my  companions  Tony  and  the  muleteer,  I  generally 
walk  next  morning  about  the  town  or  villaGce  I  am  in  :  and 
the  people  are  so  fond  of  the  English  that  a  Cavallero  Ingles 
is  asked  into  almost  every  house,  and  made  to  sit  down  and 
eat  or  drink.  By  this  means,  there  is  hardly  a  place  I  go 
through  that  I  do  not  make  some  acquaintance  whom  I  feel 
quite  sorry  to  leave." 

Of  the  Alhambra  he  says — "  It  is,  in  fact,  the  palaces  and 
gardens  of  the  Arabian  Xights  realized.  The  paintings  that 
still  remain  are  much  beyond  any  thing  of  the  kind  we  do  now, 
both  in  the  colouring  and  the  finishing  ;  and  I  was  surprised 
to  find  that  almost  all  our  modern  patterns  are  taken  from 
hence.  The  painting  of  one  of  the  rooms  is  even  now  better 
than  that  of  the  gallery  at  Castletown,  or  at  Monsieur  Reg- 
nard's  at  Paris,  and  much  in  the  same  style." 

But  the  grsat  charm  of  these  letters  lies  neither  in  the 


LORD    EDTVARD    FITZGERALD.  41 

descriptions  nor  reflections,  much  livelier  and  profounder  than 
which  might,  in  this  age  of  showy  and  second-hand  cleverness, 
be  parroted  forth  by  persons  with  not  a  tithe  of  Lord  Ed- 
ward's intellect, — but  in  that  ever-wakeful  love  of  home  and 
of  all  connected  with  it,  which  accompanies  him  wherever  he 
goes  ;  which  mixes,  even  to  a  disturbing  degree,  with  all  his 
pursuits  and  pleasures,  and  would,  it  is  plain,  could  his  wishes 
have  been  seconded  by  the  fabled  cap  of  Fortunatus,  have 
been  for  ever  transporting  him  back  into  the  family  circle.  In 
some  of  the  remembrances  he  sends  to  his  sisters,  th.^t  playful- 
ness of  nature  which,  to  the  end  of  his  life,  and  through  some 
of  its  most  trying  scenes,  never  deserted  him,  rather  amusingly 
breaks  out.  For  instance,  after  observing  that  all  the  little 
Portuguese  and  Spanish  girls  put  him  in  mind  of  his  sister 
Ciss,  he  adds,  "  You  are  by  this  time  settled  at  Barege,  and  1 
hope  have  had  neither  bickerings  nor  pickerings.  One  cer- 
tainly avoids  them  by  being  alone,  and  it  is  that,  I  believe, 
that  makes  it  so  tiresome.  I  really,  at  this  moment,  long  to 
have  a  little  Cjuarrel  with  somebody.  Give  my  love  to  all  of 
them,  I  am  sorry  poor  dear  Charlotte  is  not  better, — glad 
Lucy  is  quite  well,  and  hope  Sophia  is  not  lachrymose.  I 
sincerely  hope  Mimi  is  grown  obstinate,  passionate,  and  diso- 
bedient to  all  the  girls,  and  that  she  don't  mind  a  word  M^. 
Clavel  says  to  her  ;  that  when  she  is  at  her  lesson,  she  only 
keeps  her  eyes  on  the  book,  while,  all  the  while,  she  is  think- 
ing of  riding  on  Bourra  ;  and  that  the  minute  you  are 
out  of  the  room,  she  begins  talking  to  Cecilia.  God  bless 
you." 

From  Madrid  he  writes  thus  : — 

"  I  have  been  but  three  hours  in  Madrid.  I  wanted  to  set 
off  to  you  by  post,  and  should  have  been  with  you,  in  that 
case,  in  seven  days.  It  was  to  cost  me  £40  ;  but  Tony  re- 
monstrated, and  insisted  that  it  was  very  foolish,  when  I  might 
go  for  five  guineas,  and, — in  short,  he  prevailed." 

The  warm  attachment  to  Miss  *  *,  of  which  we  have  al- 
ready traced  the  first  dawnings,  contmued  unaltered  through 
all  this  change  of  scene  and  society  ;  though,  from  his  silence 
on  the  subject,  in  every  letter  he  wrote  home,  it  would  appear 
that,  even  to  his  mother,  the  habitual  depository  of  all  his 
thoughts,  he  had  not  yet  confided  the  secret  of  his  new  pas- 
sion.    On  his  return  to  England,  however,  but  a  very  short 


42  MEMOIRS    OF 

time  elapsed  before  it  became  manifest  not  only  how  deeply 
and  devotedly  he  was  attached,  but,  unluckily,  how  faint  v>'tre 
the  hopes  of  his  ever  succeeding  in  his  suit.  Tiie  Duke  of 
Kichmond,  who  felt  naturally  a  warm  interst  in  both  parties, 
was  very  desirous,  it  seems,  that  the  union  should  take  place  ; 
but  the  father  of  the  young  lady  decidedly  opposed  himself  to 
it ;  and  the  more  strongly  to  "mark  his  decision  on  the  subject, 
at  length  peremptorily  forbade  Lord  Edward  his  house. 

To  be  thus  frustrated  in  any  object  whatever  would  have 
been,  to  a  sanguine  spirit  like  his,  sufficiently  mortifying  ;  but 
in  a  pursuit  like  this  where  he  had  embarked  all  his  fondest 
hopes,  nor  was  without  grounds  for  flattering  himself  that,  but 
for  this  interference,  he  might  have  been  successful,  the  effect 
of  such  a  repulse  in  saddening  and  altogether  unhinging  his 
mind  may  be,  without  difficulty,  conceived. 

Finding  that  his  spirits,  instead  of  rallying,  were,  on  the 
contrary,  sinking  every  day,  more  and  more,  under  this  disai> 
pointment,  while,  from  the  want  of  any  active  and  regular  em- 
ployment, his  mind  was  left  helplessly  the  victim  of  its  own 
broodings,  he  resolved  to  try  how  far  absence  and  occupation 
might  bring  relief  ;  and  as  his  present  regiment,  the  54th,  was 
now  at  New  Brunswick,  in  2\ova  Scotia,  he  determined  on 
joining  it.  Fortunately,  this  resolution  found  a  seconding  im- 
pulse in  that  love  of  a  military  life  which  was  so  leading  a 
feeling  with  him  ;  and,  about  the  latter  end  of  May,  without 
acquainting  even  his  mother  with  his  design,  lest,  in  her  fond 
anxiety,  she  might  interpose  to  prevent  it,  he  sailed  for  Ame- 
rica. 

The  following  series  of  letters,  written  by  him  at  this  time, 
will,  I  have  no  doubt,  be  read  with  interest. 

"Halifax,  June  24th,  I'? 88. 
"  DEAREST,  DEAREST  MOTHER, 

"  I  got  here  three  days  ago,  after  a  passage  of  twenty-eight 
days,  one  of  the  quickest  almost  ever  known.  We  had  a  fair 
wind  every  hour  of  the  way.  Depend  on  it,  dearest  mother, 
I  will  not  miss  an  opportunity  of  writing  to  you.  Tony  has 
followed  your  directions  very  implicitly,  for  there  has  not  pass- 
ed a  day  yet  without  his  telling  me  1  had  best  write  now,  or 
I  should  go  out  and  forget  it. 

"  I  can  give  you  no  account  of  the  country  yet,  or  the  peo- 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  43 

pie.  By  what  I  hear,  they  are  all  Irish,  at  least  in  this  town  ; 
the  brogue  is  not  in  higher  perfection  in  Kilkenny.  I  think  I 
hear  and  see  Thamis  in  every  corner  of  the  street.  I  am 
lodged  at  a  Mr.  Cornelius  O'Brien's,  who  claims  relationship  ; 
and  I  accept  the  relationship, — and  his  horst^  for  thirty  miles  up 
the  country.  I  set  out  to-day.  My  regiment  is  at  St.  John's, 
in  New  Brunswick  :  the  distance  is  a  hundred  and  twenty  miles 
from  here  to  Annapolis,  and  at  Annapolis  you  embark  across 
the  bay  of  Fundy  to  St.  John's,  which  is  opposite,  at  the  mouth 
of  the  river  of  the  same  name.  This  is  the  common  route  ; 
but  to  avoid  the  Bay  of  Fundy  (which  is  a  very  disagreeable 
navigation,  and  where  one  sometimes  happens  to  be  a  fort- 
night out),  I  go  another  road,  which  takes  me  round  the  bay. 
It  is  longer,  and  very  bad,  but  by  all  accounts  very  wild  and 
beautiful.  I  shall  cross  rivers  and  lakes  of  which  one  has  no 
idea  in  England.  I  go  down  one  river  called  Shubennacadee 
for  thirty  miles,  which  they  tell  me  is  so  full  of  fish  that  you 
kill  them  with  sticks.  They  say  the  banks  of  it  are  beautiful 
— all  the  finest  wood  and  pasture,  but  quite  in  the  state  of 
nature.  By  all  I  hear,  this  will  be  a  journey  after  my  own 
heart.  I  long  to  hear  from  you.  I  love  G  '^^  *  more  than 
ever. 

"  I  hope  my  journey  will  do  me  good  :  one  thing  I  am  glad 
to  find  is,  that  I  am  likely  to  have  separate  command,  which 
will  give  me  a  good  deal  to  do.  Good  bye  again.  God  bless 
you  a  thousand  times.  "  Yours,  &c." 

This  journey  to  St.  John's  appears  to  have  been  all  that  he 
anticipated  ;  and  the  quiet  and  affecting  picture  of  an  evening 
in  the  woods,  detailed  with  such  natural  eloquence  in  the  fol- 
lowing letter,  affords  one  of  those  instances  where  a  writer 
may  be  said  to  be  a  poet  without  knowing  it  ; — his  very  un- 
consciousness of  the  effect  he  is  producing  being,  in  itself,  a 
charm  which  no  art  or  premeditation  could  expect  to  reach. 

"  St.  John's,  Xew  Brunswick,  July  18th. 
"  SIY  DEAREST  MOTHER, 

"  Here  I  am,  after  a  long  and  fatiguing  journey,  I  had  no 
idea  of  what  it  was  :  it  was  more  like  a  campaign  than  any 
thing  else,  except  in  one  material  point,  that  of  having  no 
danger.     I  should  have  enjoyed  it  most  compleiely  but  for  the 


44  MEMOIRS    OF 

musquitos,  but  they  took  off  a  groat  deal  of  my  pleasure  :  the 
millions  of  them  are  dreadful.  If  it  had  not  beeu  for  this  in- 
convenience, my  journey  would  have  been  delightful.  The 
country  is  almost  all  m  a  state  of  nature,  as  •well  as  its  inha- 
bitants. There  are  four  sorts  of  these  :  the  Indians,  the 
French,  the  old  English  settlers,  and  now  the  refugees  from 
the  other  parts  of  America  :  the  last  seem  the  most  civilized. 

"  The  old  settlers  are  almost  as  wild  as  Indians,  but  lead  a 
very  comfortable  life  :  thev  are  all  farmers,  and  live  entirely 
w^ithiu  themselves.  They  supply  all  their  own  wants  by  their 
contrivances,  so  that  thev  seldom  buv  auv  thing.  Thev  ouu-lit 
to  be  the  hap]Mest  }ieople  in  the  world,  bnt  they  do  not  seem 
to  know  it.  They  imagine  themselves  poor,  because  they  have 
no  money,  without  considering  they  do  not  want  it  :  every 
thinsi-  is  done  by  barter,  and  von  will  often  lind  a  farmer  well 
supplied  with  every  thing,  and  yet  not  have  a  shilling  in  money. 
Any  man  that  will  work  is  sure  in  a  few  years  to  have  a  com- 
fortable farm  :  the  tirst  eighteen  months  is  the  only  hard  time, 
and  that  in  most  ]ilaces  is  avoided,  ])articularly  near  the  rivers, 
for  in  every  one  of  them  a  man  will  catch  in  a  day  enousxh  to 
feed  him  for  a  year.  In  the  winter,  with  very  little  trouble, 
he  supplies  himself  with  meat  by  killing  moose  deer  ;  and  in 
sununer  with  pigeons,  of  which  the  woods  are  full.  These  he 
must  subsist  on  till  he  has  cleared  ground  enonu'h  to  raise  a 
little  grain,  which  a  hard-working  man  will  do  hi  the  course 
of  a  few  months.  By  sellUig  his  moose  skins,  making  sugar 
out  of  the  maple  tree,  and  by  a  few  days'  work  for  other  peo- 
ple, for  which  he  gets  great  wages,  he  soon  acquires  enough  to 
purchase  a  cow.  This,  then,  sets  him  up,  and  he  is  sure,  in  a 
lew  years,  to  luive  a  comfortable  supply  of  every  necessary  of 
life.  I  came  through  a  whole  tract  of  country  peopled  by 
Irish,  who  came  out  not  worth  a  shilliua',  and  have  all  now 
farms,  worth  (according  to  the  value  of  money  in  this  coun- 
try) from  £1000  to  £3^000. 

"  The  equality  of  every  body  and  of  their  manner  of  life  I 
like  very  much.  There  are  no  a-entlemen  ;  every  body  is  on  a 
footing,  provided  he  works  and  wants  nothing  ;  every  man  is 
exactly  what  he  can  make  himsaJf  ;  or  /ins  made  himself  by 
industry.  The  more  children  a  man  has  the  better  :  his  wife 
being  brouLfht  to  bed  is  as  iovful  news  as  his  cow  calving  : 
the  father  has  no  uneasiness  about  providing  for  them,  as  this 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  45 

is  done  by  the  profit  of  their  work.  By  the  time  they  are  fit 
to  settle,  he  can  always  afi'ord  them  two  oxen,  a  cow,  a  gun, 
and  an  axe,  and  in  a  few  years,  if  they  work,  they  will  thrive. 

"  I  came  by  a  settlement  alon^^  one  of  the  rivers  which  was 
all  the  work  of  one  pair  ;  the  old  man  was  seventy-two,  the 
old  lady  seventy  ;  they  had  been  there  thirty  years  ;  they 
came  there  with  one  cow,  three  children,  and  one  servant  ; 
there  was  not  a  living  being  within  sixty  miles  of  them.  The 
first  year  they  lived  mostly  on  milk  and  marsh  leaves  ;  the 
second  year  they  contrived  to  purchase  a  bull,  by  the  produce 
of  their  moose  skins  and  fish  :  from  this  time  they  got  on  very 
well  ;  and  there  are  now  five  sons  and  a  daughter  all  settled 
in  different  farms  along  the  river  for  the  space  of  twenty  miles, 
and  all  living  comfortably  and  at  ease.  The  old  pair  live  alone 
in  the  little  log  cabin  they  first  settled  in,  two  miles  from  any 
of  their  children  ;  their  little  spot  of  ground  is  cultivated  by 
these  children,  and  they  are  supplied  with  so  much  butter, 
grain,  meat,  <fec.  from  each  child,  according  to  the  share  he  got 
of  the  land  ;  so  that  the  old  folks  have  nothing  to  do  but  to 
mind  their  house,  which  is  a  kind  of  inn  they  keep,  more  for 
the  sake  of  the  company  of  the  few  travellers  there  are  than 
for  gain. 

"  I  was  obliged  to  stay  a  day  with  the  old  people  on  account 
of  the  tides,  which  did  not  answer  for  going  up  the  river  till 
next  morning  ;  it  was,  I  think,  as  odd  and  as  pleasant  a  day 
(in  its  way)  as  ever  I  passed.  I  wish  I  could  describe  it  to 
you,  but  I  cannot,  you  must  only  help  it  out  with  your  own 
imagination.  Conceive,  dearest  mother,  arriving  about  twelve 
o'clock  in  a  hot  day  at  a  little  cal>in  upon  the  side  of  a  rapid 
river,  the  banks  all  covered  with  woods,  not  a  house  in  sight 
— and  there  finding  a  little  old  clean  tidy  woman  spinning, 
with  an  old  man  of  the  same  appearance,  weeding  salad.  We 
had  come  for  ten  miles  up  the  river  without  seeing  any  thing 
but  woods.  The  old  pair,  on  our  arrival,  got  as  active  as  if 
onlv  five-and-twentv,  the  gentleman  getting  wood  and  water, 
the  lady  frying  bacon  and  eggs,  both  talking  a  good  deal,  tell- 
ing their  storv,  as  I  mentioned  before,  how  thev  had  been  there 
thirtv  vears,  and  how  their  children  were  settled,  and  when 
either's  back  was  turned  remarking  how  old  the  other  had 
grown  ;  at  the  same  time  all  kindness,  cheerfulness,  and  love 
to  each  other. 


46  MEMOIRS    OF 

"  Tlie  contrast  of  all  this  wliicli  had  passed  diirhig  the  dav, 
with  the  quietness  of  the  evening,  when  the  spirits  of  the  old 
people  had  a  little  subsided,  and  began  to  wear  oft'  with  the 
day,  and  with  the  fatigue  of  their  little  work, — sitting  quietly 
at  the  door,  on  the  same  spot  they  had  lived  in  thirty  years 
together,  the  contented  thought  fulness  of  their  countenances, 
which  was  increased  by  their  age  and  the  solitary  life  they 
had  led,  the  wild  quietness  of  the  place,  not  a  Kviug  crea- 
ture or  hal)itation  to  be  seen,  and  me,  Tony,  and  our  guide 
sitting  with  them,  all  on  one  loo:.  The  difference  of  the  scene 
I  had  left, — the  innuense  wav  I  had  to  get  from  this  corner 
of  the  world,  to  see  any  thing  I  loved, — the  difference  of  the 
life  I  should  lead  from  that  of  this  old  pair,  perhaps  at  their 
age  discontented,  disappointed,  and  miserable,  wishing  for 
power,  &c.  &c. — my  dearest  mother,  if  it  was  not  for  you,  I 
believe  I  never  should  go  home,  at  least  I  thou2:ht  so  at  that 
moment. 

*'  However,  here  I  am  now  with  my  regiment,  up  at  six  in 
the  morniuii*  doiuii*  all  sorts  of  riirht  thinjxs,  and  liking  it  very 
much,  determined  to  go  home  next  spring,  and  Uve  with  you 
a  great  deal.  Employment  keeps  up  my  spirits,  and  I  shall 
have  more  every  day.  I  own  I  ofteu  think  how  happy  I  could 
be  with  G  *  *  iu  some  of  the  spots  I  see  ;  and  envied  every 
vounsi-  farmer  I  met,  whom  I  saw  sittius;  down  with  a  vouug 
wife  whom  he  was  going  to  work  to  maintain.  I  believe  these 
thoughts  made  my  journey  pleasauter  than  it  otherwise  would 
have  been  ;  but  I  don't  u-ive  wav  to  them  here.  Dearest 
mother,  I  sometimes  hope  it  will  end  well, — but  shall  not 
think  anv  more  of  it  till  I  hear  from  Euirlaud.  Tell  Oixilvie 
I  am  oblisred  sometimes  to  sav  to  mvself,  '  Tu  I'as  voulu, 
Georo'e  Daudiu,'  when  I  find  these  thinirs  disairreeable  ;  but, 
on  the  whole,  I  do  not  repent  coming  ;  he  won't  believe  me, 
I  know.  He  would  be  in  a  tine  passion  when  he  finds  I  should 
have  been  lieuteuant-eolonel  for  the  regulated  price,  if  I  had 
stayed  in  the  60th  ;  however,  as  fate  seems  to  destine  me  for 
a  major,  I  am  determined  to  remain  so  and  not  pm'chase. 
Give  my  love  to  him  :  I  wish  I  coidd  give  him  some  of  the 
wood  here  for  Kilrush." 


"  MT  DEAR  OGILVIE. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  4*1 

" Isevr  Brims\rick,  August  5. 


"  I  have  hardlv  time  to  tell  vou  more  than  that  I  am  well, 
and,  I  think,  going  on  in  a  good  way.  I  know  you  will  be 
glad  to  hear  I  read  a  great  deal,  get  up  early,  and  am  trying 
to  make  use  of  my  time  (of  which  I  have  plenty)  for  redec- 
tion.  I  grow  fonder  of  my  profession  the  more  I  see  of  it, 
and  like  being  major  much  better  than  being  lieutenant-colonel, 
for  1  only  execute  the  commands  of  others.  I  have  a  good 
deal  to  do,  which  keeps  up  my  spirits  ;  and  if  it  was  not  being 
away  from  dearest  mother,  am  happier  here  than  1  should  be 
anv  where  else  ;  the  distance  from  her,  and  indeed  all  of  vou, 
comes  over  me  strongly  now  and  then.  I  hope  you  miss  '  that 
little  dog,  Edward,'  sometimes.  Good  bye  ;  I  don't  like 
thinking  of  you  at  this  distance,  for  it  only  makes  me  melan- 
choly. You  will  be  much  disappointed  in  your  hopes  of  my 
staving  here  two  vears  :  mv  Ueutenant-colonel  savs  I  shall 
have  his  leave  wheue\;er  I  choose,  as  he  intends  staying  till  the 
regiment  returns  ;  so  that  next  sprmg,  by  which  time  I  shall 
have  seen  Xiagara  and  the  lakes,  and  enjoyed  a  Uttle  of  the 
savage  life,  you  may  expect  to  see  me.-' 

St.  Ann's,  Xew  Brunswick, 
"August  16th,  1788. 
"  DEAREST  MOTHER, 

"  Since  my  last  I  have  changed  quarters,  and  much  for  the 
better.  This  place  is  a  hundred  miles  up  the  river  ;  the  coun- 
trv  is  beautiful  and  the  weather  charminor.  At  St.  John  s  the 
weather  is  very  bad  ;  the  fogs  constant,  and  for  more  than 
three  weeks  I  was  there,  we  had  onlv  five  davs  on  which  we 
saw  the  sun  rise.     You  mav  believe  I  was  verv  jrlad  to  come 

ft  ft       cr 

up  to  this  place  ;  besides,  I  have  the  command  here,  which 
gives  me  more  employment  ;  ca  me  pese  now  and  then  ;  but, 
on  the  whole,  it  is  very  good  for  me. 

"  Pray  tell  Ogilvie  I  am  obliged  to  think, — I  know  he  will 
be  glad  to  hear  it,  I  get  up  at  five  o'clock,  go  out  and  exer- 
cise the  men  from  six  till  eisrht,  come  home  and  breakfast  ; 
from  that  till  three,  I  read,  write,  and  settle  all  the  different 
business  of  the  regiment  ;  at  four  we  dine  ;  at  half  after  six 
we  go' out,  parade  and  drill  to  sundown  ;  from  that  till  nine, 
I  walk  bv  mvself,  build  castles  in  the  air,  think  of  vou- all.  re- 


48  MEMOIRS    OF 

fleet  on  the  pleasant  time  past  as  much  as  possible,  and  on  the 
disagreeable  as  little  as  possible  ;  think  of  all  the  pleasant 
things  that  may  yet  happen,  and  none  of  the  unpleasant  ones  ; 
when  I  am  tired  of  myself,  at  nine  o'clock,  come  home  to  bed, 
and  then  sleep  till  the  faithful  Tony  comes  in  the  morning  :— 
his  black  face  is  the  only  thing  that  I  yet  feel  attached  to. 

"  Dearest  mother,  I  do  sincerely  long  to  see  you  ;  I  think 
if  I  could  carry  you  here,  I  should  live  tolerably  happy. 
There  is  certainly  something  in  a  military  life  that  excites  and 
keeps  up  one's  spirits.  I  feel  exactly  like  my  Uncle  Toby  at 
the  sound  of  a  drum,  and  the  more  I  hear  it  the  more  I  like 
it ;  there  is  a  mixture,  too,  of  country  life  and  military  life 
here  that  is  very  pleasant.  I  have  got  a  garden  for  the  sol- 
diers which  employs  me  a  great  deal.  I  flatter  myself  next 
year  that  it  will  furnish  the  men  with  quantities  of  vegetables, 
which  will  be  of  great  service  to  them.  Another  of  my 
amusements  is  my  canoe  ;  I  have  already  had  two  expeditions 
in  it.  I  and  another  officer  went  up  the  river  in  her  for  thirty 
miles  ;  we  stayed  two  days,  and  had  our  provisions  and  blank- 
ets with  us,  and  slept  in  the  woods  one  of  the  nights,  cooked 
our  victuals,  and  did  every  thing  ourselves. 

"  It  is  very  pleasant  here  sometimes  to  go  in  this  way  ex- 
ploring, ascending  far  up  some  river  or  creek,  and  finding 
sometimes  the  finest  lands  and  most  beautiful  spots  in  nature, 
which  are  not  at  all  known,  and  quite  wild.  As  soon  as  our 
review  is  over,  I  am  to  go  on  one  of  these  parties,  up  a  river, 
the  source  and  course  of  which  is  yet  unknown.  There  is  a 
great  convenience  in  the  canoes,  they  are  so  light,  two  men 
can  carry  them  easily  on  their  shoulders,  so  that  you  go  from 
river  to  river  without  any  trouble  :  it  is  the  only  method  of 
travelling  in  this  country.  A  canoe  here  is  like  a  post- 
chaise  at  home,  and  the  rivers  and  lakes  your  post-horses. 
You  would  laugh  to  see  the  faithful  Tony  and  I  carrying 
one. 

"  Good  bye,  dearest  mother,  I  do  all  I  can  not  to  think  of 
you,  but  in  vain.  Give  my  love  to  every  body.  I  love  G  *  * 
more  than  ever,  and,  if  she  likes  me,  can  never  change.  I 
often  think  what  pleasure  it  would  be  to  come  home  to  her, 
and  how  much  better  every  object  would  appear, — but  I  stop 
my  thoughts  as  much  as  I  can.  I  never  shall,  I  think,  be 
happy  without  her  ;  neither  do  I  say  that  I  shall  be  absolutely 


LORD    EDTV'ARD    FITZGERALD.  49 

unhappy.  I  think  it  indeed  wrong  (when  one  has  a  great 
number  of  real  blessings)  not  to  feel  and  enjoy  them,  because 
there  is  one  which  we  cannot  have.  For  myself,  I  have  so 
many,  that  I  feel  afraid  that  any  thing  more  would  be  beyond 
my  share,  and  that  so  great  a  happiness  must  be  attended 
with  some  misfortune.  I  am  not  certainly  so  much  better 
than  others,  and  do  not  think  that  I  deserve  what  I  have. 
Excuse  my  petite  morale  J' 

"  Frederick's  Town,  New  Brunswick, 
Sept.  2d,  1788. 
"  DEAREST,  DEAREST   MOTHER, 

"  I  have  just  got  your  letter  from  sweet  Frescati.  How 
affectionate  and  reasonable  ! — but  I  was  sure  you  would  be 
so,  when  you  came  to  reflect.  You  cannot  think  how  happy 
you  have  made  me.  Being  absent  from  you  was  unhappiness 
enough,  without  the  addition  of  your  thinking  it  unnecessary, 
and  being  a  little  angry.  I  own  it  went  to  my  heart  to  feel 
1  was  the  cause  of  so  much  misery  to  you,  while  at  the  very 
time,  too,  you  thought  the  step  I  took  unnecessary.  It  cer- 
tainly required  more  resolution  than  I  believe  I  shall  ever 
have  again.  However,  I  trust  it  will  all  turn  out  well.  It 
certainly  will  do  me  good  in  my  profession  :  it  gives  me  the 
consolation,  too,  of  thinking  I  am  doing  my  duty  as  a  man, 
and  occupation  hinders  my  being  so  thoroughly  taken  up  with 
one  object  as  I  should  have  been  had  I  remained  home.  Still, 
being  absent  from  you,  my  dear  mother,  is  very  terrible  at 
times.  However,  I  hope  to  make  it  up  wdien  I  return  ;  and 
certainly  by  having  come  away  now,  I  can  with  a  better  grace 
stay  at  home  at  some  future  time  ;  at  a  time  too,  perhaps, 
when  I  should  be  a  greater  comfort  to  you. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  you  are  so  quietly  settled  at 
Frescati.  You  must  find  great  pleasure  in  being  there,  after 
your  rambling  ;  but  I  trust  you  will  not  get  too  rooted  or  too 
lazy  to  stir  from  it,  for  I  hope  to  serve  you  as  courier  yet  ; 
and  to  keep  you  in  order  on  our  journeys,  when  you  know  I 
always  become  such  a  tyrant.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  think  too 
often  of  our  last  year's  journey.  We  are  now  approaching  to 
the  time.  I  shall,  however,  amuse  mvself  travelling  in  a 
different  way.  We  are  going,  a  party  of  us,  in  canoes  up  to 
the  Grand  Falls  of  St.  John's  :  thev  are  two  hundred  and 


60  MEMOIRS    OF 

fifty  miles  np  the  river,  and  by  all  accounts  beautiful.  The 
contrast  between  the  country  I  shall  travel  throui^h  this  year 
and  that  I  went  through  last  will  be  very  great :  the  one  all 
wild,  the  other  all  high  cultivation.  Instead  of  Blois,  Tours, 
(fee,  a  few  Indian  bark  huts.  I  am  not  quite  certain  which  I 
prefer.  There  is  something  in  a  wild  country  very  enticing  ; 
taking  its  inhabitants,  too,  and  their  manners  into  the  bar- 
gain. 

''  I  know  Ogilvie  says  I  ought  to  have  been  a  savage  ;  and 
if  it  were  not  that  the  people  I  love  and  wish  to  live  with  are 
civilized  people,  and  like  houses,  &c.,  &c.,  I  really  would  join 
the  savages  ;  and,  leaving  all  our  fictitious,  ridiculous  wants, 
be  what  nature  intended  we  should  be.  Savages  have  all  the 
real  happiness  of  life,  without  any  of  those  inconveniences,  or 
ridiculous  obstacles  to  it,  which  custom  has  introduced  among 
us.  They  enjoy  the  love  and  company  of  their  wives,  rela- 
tions, and  friends,  without  any  interference  of  interests  or  am- 
bition to  separate  them.  To  bring  things  home  to  oneself,  if 
ue  had  been  Indians,  instead  of  its  being  my  duty  to  be  sepa- 
rated from  all  of  you,  it  would,  on  the  contrary,  be  my  duty 
to  be  with  you,  to  make  you  comfortable,  and  to  hunt  and 
fish  for  you  :  instead  of  Lord  "^  *'s  being  violent  against  letting 
me  marry  G  *  '^,  he  would  be  glad  to  give  her  to  me,  that  I 
might  maintain  and  feed  her.  There  would  be  then  no  cases 
of  looking  forward  to  the  fortune  for  children, — of  thinking 
how  you  are  to  live  ;  no  separations  in  families,  one  in  Ireland, 
one  in  England  :  no  devilish  politics,  no  fashions,  customs, 
duties,  or  appearances  to  the  world,  to  interfere  with  one's 
happiness.  Instead  of  being  served  and  supported  by  ser- 
vants, every  thing  here  is  done  by  one's  relations — by  the 
people  one  loves  ;  and  the  mutual  obligations  you  must  be 
under  increase  your  love  for  each  other.  To  be  sure,  the  poor 
ladies  are  obliged  to  cut  a  little  wood  and  bring  a  little  water. 
Now  the  dear  Ciss  and  Mimi,  instead  of  being  with  Mrs. 
Lynch,  would  be  carrying  wood  and  fetching  water,  while 
ladies  Lucy  and  Sophir?  were  cooking  or  drying  fish.  As  for 
you,  dear  mother,  you  would  be  smoking  your  pipe.  Ogilvie 
and  us  boys,  after  having  brought  in  our  game,  would  be  lying 
about  the  fire,  while  our  squaws  were  helping  the  ladies  to 
cook,  or  taking  care  of  our  papouses  :  all  this  in  a  fine  wood, 
beside  some  beautiful  lake,  wiiich  when  you  were  tired  of,  you 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  51 

would  in  ten  minutes,  without  any  baggage,  get  into  your 
canoes  and  off  with  you  elsewhere. 

"  I  wish  Ogilvie  may  get  rid  of  Frescati  as  easily  ;  I  really 
think,  as  things  go,  it  would  be  a  good  thing  ;  it  certainly  is 
at  present  a  great  deal  of  money  lying  dead.  Besides,  then, 
perhaps,  you  may  settle  in  England,  and  if  things  turn  out,  as 
I  still  have  hopes  they  will,  and  that  I  do  succeed  and  marry 
dearest  G  "^  *,  it  will  be  much  pleasanter  for  me.  I  cannot 
help  having  hopes  that  Lord  George  will  at  last  consent,  and 
as  long  as  there  is  the  smallest  hope  of  being  happy  with 
G  *  *,  it  is  not  possible  to  be  happy  with  any  one  else.  I 
never  can,  I  think,  love  any  body  as  I  do  her,  for  with  her  I 
can  find  no  fault  :  1  mav  admire  and  love  other  women,  but 
none  can  come  in  competition  with  her.  Dearest  mother, 
after  yourself,  I  think  she  is  the  most  perfect  creature  on 
earth. 

"  I  hope  by  this  time  you  have  got  dear  Harry  and  Plenipo. 
Bob,  thev  must  be  a  a-reat  comfort  to  vou.  I  am  "lad  to  hear 
the  dear  rascal  G.  loves  me,  and  inquires  for  me  ;  1  will  write 
to  him  soon.  'Good  bye,  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,  except 
that  the  faithful  Tony  inquires  after  you  all,  and  seems  as  glad 
when  I  get  a  letter  as  if  it  was  to  him  ; — he  always  puts  me 
in  mind  to  write.  I  have  found  he  has  one  fault,  he  is  ava- 
ricious ;  be  begins  already  to  count  the  money  both  he  and  I 
are  to  save.     A  thousand  blessings  attend  you. 

"E.  F. 

"  Upon  reading  over  your  letter,  I  cannot  finish  this  with- 
out saying  something  to  Ogilvie.  Don't  let  hiuj  be  afraid  of 
my  marrying  a  Yahoo.  As  to  paying  my  debts,  it  is  a  ras- 
cally custom  I  am  afraid  I  must  comply  with.  I  wish  him  joy 
of  there  being  no  one  in  Dublin.  Tell  him  he  will  hardly 
know  me  again,  I  am  grown  so  steady.  I  think  I  hear  hiin 
tell  you  how  much  I  am  improved.  As  for  the  lieut-colonelcy, 
we  will  see  about  that." 

It  has  been  often  asserted  that  Lord  Edward's  adoption  of 
republican  principles  is  to  be  traced  back  to  the  period  when 
he  first  served  in  America  ;  and  that  it  was  while  fighting 
against  the  assertors  of  liberty  in  that  country  he  imbibed  so 
strong  a  feeling  of  sympathy  with  their  cause.  This  supjiosi- 
tion,  however,  will  be  found  to  have  but  few  grounds,  even  of 


52  MEMOIRS    OF 

probability,  to  support  it.  At  that  boyish  period  of  his  life, 
between  seventeen  and  twenty,  he  was  little  likely  to  devote 
any  very  serious  consideration  to  the  political  merits  of  the 
question  in  wliich  he  "  fleshed  his  maiden  sword."  But,  even 
granting  him  to  have  been  disposed,  under  such  circumstances, 
to  cousider  which  party  was  right  in  the  struggle,  the  result 
most  probably  would  have  been, — allowing  fully  for  the  hered- 
itary bias  of  his  opinions, — to  enlist,  for  the  time,  at  least,  not 
only  his  feelings,  but  his  reason,  on  the  side  in  which  his  own 
prospects  and  fame  were  immediately  interested. 

The  situation  of  the  soldier  bears,  in  such  cases,  a  resem- 
blance to  that  of  the  lawyer,  whose  public  duty  too  often 
compels  him  to  be  the  defender  of  a  cause,  to  which,  out  of 
the  professional  pale,  his  judgment  and  wishes  are  most 
adverse  ;  and  the  sole  relief  to  very  conscientious  persons, 
thus  situated,  lies  in  that  habit  which  they  at  last  acquire  (as 
is  said  to  have  been  the  case  with  a  late  eminent  English 
lawyer)  of  so  far  shaping  their  judgment  to  their  conscience 
as,  at  length,  to  succeed  in  persuading  tliemselves  that  the 
side  of  the  question  they  have  professionally  adopted  is  also 
that  of  sound  reason  and  right. 

Of  this  sort  of  self-reconciling  process,  which  the  natural 
efibrt  of  the  mind  to  recover  its  own  esteem  renders  easy, 
Lord  Edward  would,  no  doubt,  like  others,  have  felt  the  tran- 
quillizing influence,  had  any  misgivings,  as  to  the  moral 
character  of  the  cause,  in  which  he  now  engaged  with  such 
ardour,  occurred  to  him.  But  the  fact  is,  no  "misgivings  of 
this  nature  suggested  themselves  ;  nor  was  he,  at  that  time  of 
his  life,  troubled  with  any  of  the  inconvenient  spirit  of  inquiry 
that  would  have  led  to  them.  His  new  career,  as  a  soldier, 
alone  occupied  all  his  thoughts  ; — wherever  fighting  and  pro- 
motion were  to  be  found  was  to  him  the  mostwelcome  field  ; 
and  the  apprehensions  which,  it  may  be  remembered,  he 
expresses,  in  his  letters  from  St.  Lucia,  at  the  near  approach 
of  peace,  show  how  personal  and  professional,  to  the  last,  his 
views  of  this  iniquitous  war  continued. 

But  though  it  is  a  mistake  to  refer  so  far  back  the  origin 
of  his  repubhcan  notions,  yet  that  to  America,  on  this,  his 
second  visit  to  her  shores,  and  through  a  very  different  chan- 
nel both  of  reasoning  and  of  feelingr  he  may  have  probably 
owed  the  first  instilment  of  those  principles  into  his  mind, 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  63 

every  reader,  I  think,  of  the  foregoing  letter  will  be  inclined  to 
allow.  It  is  true,  the  natural  simplicity  and  independence  of 
his  character,  which  led  him  habituallv,  and  without  effort,  to 
foriret  the  noble  in  the  man,  was  in  itself  sufficient  to  incline 
him  towards  those  equalizing  doctrines  which  teach  that 

"  Where  there  is  no  difference  in  men's  worths, 
Titles  are  jests." 

In  the  small  sphere,  too,  of  party  politics  to  which  his 
speculations  had  been  hitherto  bounded,  the  line  taken  by  him 
had  been,  as  we  have  seen,  in  conformity  with  the  popular 
principles  of  his  family,  and  on  the  few  occasions  tliat  had 
called  for  their  assertion,  had  been  honourably  and  consistently 
followed.  But  farther  or  deeper  than  this  he  had  not  taxed 
his  boyish  thoughts  to  go  ;  and  what  with  his  military  pur- 
suits, while  abroad,  and  the  course  of  gayety  and  domestic 
enjoyments  that  awaited  him  at  home,  he  could  have  but  little 
leisure  to  turn  his  mind  to  any  other  forms  or  relations  of 
society  than  those  in  which  he  was  always,  so  agreeably  to 
himself  and  others,  enga2:ed. 

At  the  time,  however,  which  we  are  now  employed  in  con- 
sidering, a  great  change  had  taken  place  in  the  complexion  of 
his  life.  Disappointment  in — what,  to  youth,  is  every  thing — 
the  first  strong  affection  of  the  heart,  had  given  a  check  to 
that  flow  of  spirits  which  had  before  borne  him  so  buoyantly 
along  ;  while  his  abstraction  from  society  left  him  more  leisure 
to  look  inquiringly  into  his  own  mind,  and  there  gather  tliose 
thoughts  that  are  ever  the  fruit  of  long  solitude  and  sadness. 
The  repulse  which  his  suit  had  met  with  from  the  father  of  his 
fair  relative  had,  for  its  chief  grounds,  he  knew,  the  inade- 
quacy of  his  own  means  and  prospects  to  the  support  of  a 
wife  and  family  in  that  style  of  elegant  competence  to  which 
the  station  of  the  young  lady  herself  had  hitherto  accustomed 
her  ;  and  the  view,  therefore,  he  had  been  disposed  naturally 
to  take  of  the  pomps  and  luxuries  of  high  life,  as  standing  in 
the  way  of  all  simple  and  real  happiness,  was  thus  but  too 
painfully  borne  out  by  his  own  bitter  experience  of  their 
influence. 

In  this  temper  of  mind  it  was  that  he  now  came  to  the  con- 
templation of  a  state  of  society  (as  far  as  it  can  deserve  to  be 


64  MEMOIRS    OF 

SO  called)  entirely  new  to  him  ;  where  nature  had  retained  in 
her  own  hands  not  only  the  soil,  but  the  inhabitants,  and 
civilization  had  not  yet  exacted  those  sacrifices  of  natural 
equality  and  freedom  by  which  her  blessings  are, — in  not  a 
few  respects,  perhaps  dearly, — purchased.  Instead  of  those 
gradations  of  rank,  those  artificial  privileges,  which,  as  one  of 
the  means  of  subduing  the  strong  to  the  weak,  have  been 
established,  in  some  shape  or  other,  in  all  civilized  communi- 
ties, he  observed  here  no  other  distinction  between  man  and 
man  than  such  as  nature  herself,  by  the  different  apportion- 
ment of  her  own  gifts  had  marked  out, — by  a  disparity  either 
in  mental  capacity,  or  in  those  powers  of  agility  and  strength, 
which,  where  every  man  must  depend  mainly  on  himself,  and 
so  little  is  left  conventional  or  uncontested,  are  the  endow- 
ments most  necessary.  To  these  physical  requisites,  too, 
Lord  Edward,  as  well  from  his  own  personal  activity,  as  from 
the  military  notions  he  in  general  mixed  up  with  his  views  of 
human  affairs,  was  inclined  to  attach  high  value. 

In  like  nuinner,  from  the  total  absence,  in  this  state  of  ex- 
istence, of  those  factitious  and  imaginary  wants  which  the 
progress  of  a  people  to  refinement,  at  every  step,  engenders, 
he  saw  that  not  only  was  content  more  easy  of  attainment, 
bat  that  even  happiness  itself,  from  the  fewness  of  the  ingre- 
dients necessary  to  it,  was  a  far  less  rare  compound.  The 
natural  alfections,  under  the  guidance  less  of  reason  than  of 
instinct,  were,  from  that  very  cause,  perhaps,  the  more  strong 
and  steady  in  their  impulses  :  mutual  dependence  kept  the 
members  of  a  family  united  ;  nor  were  there  any  of  those  calls 
and  attractions  out  of  the  circle  of  home,  which  in  civilized 
life  so  early  strip  it  of  its  young  props  and  ornaments,  leaving 
the  paternal  hearth  desolate. 

AVith  a  yet  deeper  interest  was  it,  as  bearing  upon  his  own 
peculiar  fate,  that  he  had  observed,  among  this  simple,  and, 
as  he  thought,  happy  people,  that  by  no  false  ambition  or 
conventional  wants  were  the  warm,  natural  dictates  of  affec- 
tion frustrated,  nor  the  hopes  and  happiness  of  the  young 
made  a  sacrifice  to  the  calculations  of  the  old. 

The  conclusion  drawn  by  Lord  Edward,  in  favour  of  savage 
life,  from  the  premises  thus,  half  truly,  half  fancifully  assumed 
by  him, — nmch  of  the  colourhig  which  he  gave  to  the  picture 
being  itself  borrowed  from  civilization, — had  been  already,  it 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  55 

is  well  known,  arrived  at,  through  all  the  mazes  of  ingenious 
reasoning,  by  Rousseau  ;  and  it  is  not  a  little  curious  to 
observe  how  the  very  same  paradox  which  the  philosopher 
adopted  in  the  mere  spirit  of  defiance  and  vanity,  a  heart 
overflowing  with  affection  and  disappointment  conducted  the 
young  lover. 

Nor  is  Rousseau  the  only  authority  by  which  Lord  Edward 
is  kept  in  countenance  in  this  opinion."^  From  a  far  graver 
and  more  authentic  source  we  find  the  same  startling  notion 
promulgated.  The  philosopher  and  statesman,  Jefferson, 
who,  from  being  brought  up  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Indian 
communities,  had  the  best  means  of  forming  an  acquaintance 
with  the  interior  of  savage  life,  declares  himself  convinced 
"that  such  societies  (as  the  Indians)  which  live  without 
government,  enjoy,  in  their  general  mass,  an  infinitely  greater 
degree  of  happiness  than  those  who  live  under  the  European 
governments  ;"  and,  in  another  place,  after  discussing  the 
merits  of  various  forms  of  polity,  he  does  not  hesitate  to  pro- 
nounce that  it  is  a  problem  not  clear  in  his  mind  that  the 
condition  of  the  Indians,  without  any  government,  is  not  yet 
the  best  of  all. 

Thus,  where  the  American  president  ended  his  course  of 
political  speculation,  Lord  Edward  began, — adopting  his 
opinions,  not  like  Jefferson,  after  long  and  fastidious  inquiry, 
but  through  the  medium  of  a  susceptible  and  wounded  liearc, 
nor  having  a  thought  of  applying  the  principles  of  equality 
implied  in  them  to  any  other  relations  or  institutions  of  soci- 
ety than  those  in  which  his  feelings  were,  at  the  moment,  in- 
terested. This  romance,  indeed,  of  savage  happiness  was,  in 
him,  but  one  of  the  various  forms  which  the  passion  now  pre- 
dominant over  all  his  thoughts  assumed.  But  the  principle, 
thus  admitted,  retained  its  footing  in  his  mind  after  the  reve- 
ries through  which  it  had  first  found  its  way  thither  had  van- 
ished ;  and  though  it  was  some  time  before  politics, — beyond 
the  range,  at  least,  of  mere  party  tactics, — began  to  claim  his 
attention,  all  he  had  meditated  and  felt  among  the  solitudes 
of  Nova  Scotia  could  not  fail  to  render  his  mind  a  more  ready 
recipient  for  such  doctrines  as  he  found  prevalent  on  his  return 

*  See  also  Voltaire's  comparison  between  the  boors  (whom  he  ac- 
counts the  real  savages)  of  civilized  Europe  and  the  miscalled  savagea 
of  the  woods  of  America. — JEssai  sur  les  Moeurs. 


5&  ME-MOIRS    OF 

to  Europe  ; — doctrines  which,  in  their  pure  and  genuine  form, 
contained  all  the  spirit,  without  the  extravagance,  of  his  own 
soUtarj  dreams,  and,  while  they  would  leave  Man  in  full  pos- 
session of  those  blessings  of  civilization  he  had  acquired,  but 
sought  to  restore  to  him  some  of  those  natural  rights  of  equal- 
ity and  freedom  which  he  had  lost. 

"  October  6th,  1788. 
"my  dearest  mother, 

"  I  sit  down  to  write,  and  hardly  know  what  to  say  :  the 
sameness  of  life  I  lead  must  make  my  letters  very  stupid  ; 
though,  if  it  was  any  where  near  you,  it  would  be  a  very 
pleasant  one.  I  begin  to  long  very  much  to  see  you.  The 
truth  is,  that  I  do  not  know  when  I  am  with  you,  dearest 
mother,  how  necessary  you  are  to  me.  However,  I  contrive 
to  be  with  you  a  great  deal.  I  take  fine  long  w^alks,  and  think 
of  last  year  :  I  think  of  all  our  conversations, — our  jokes, — 
my  passions  when  you  were  troublesome  and  fidgety  :  I  think 
of  Sophy's  *  you  may  pretend  to  look  melancholy,' — and 
Lucy's  hot  cheek,  stuffed  up  in  the  coach,  dying  to  get  out  : 
I  think  of  our  pleasant  breakfast  on  the  road  to  Orleans.  In 
short,  dearest,  1  have  you  with  me  always  ; — I  talk  to  you  ; 
— I  look  at  your  meek  face,  when  you  submitted  to  all  my  lit- 
tle tyranny.  The  feel  of  the  air  even  very  often  reminds  me 
of  you.  We  had  just  such  a  day  a  few  days  ago  as  that 
when  we  came  to  Aubigny,  and  stopped  at  the  pleasant  vil- 
lao-e.  Dearest  mother,  when  shall  we  have  such  another  walk  ? 
— but  I  won't  think  of  it  any  more. 

"  I  am  glad  to  tell  you  that  I  have  been  five  months  away. 
By  the  time  you  get  this  I  shall  have  only  three  months  to 
stay  : — I  wish  I  could  go  to  sleep.  I  hope  Ogilvie  will  have 
good  shooting.  If  your  autumn  is  as  fine  as  ours  he  must 
have  enjoyed  it,  and  I  hope  he  went  to  shoot  at  Kilrush.  If 
he  did,  I  am  sure  he  thought  of  me,  and  wished  me  there, 
with  all  my  bills  and  follies  on  my  head.  Our  diversion  of 
canoeing  will  be  soon  over.  We  are  preparing  fast  for  win- 
ter : — don't  be  afraid,  I  have  got  plenty  of  flannel,  and  have 
cut  up  one  of  my  blankets  to  make  a  coat.  By  all  accounts, 
it  will  be  very  pleasant.  I  have  got  my  snow  shoes  ready  ; 
with  them  one  walks  and  travels  easier  in  winter  than  sum- 
mer ;  it  will  be  quite  a  new  scene.     My  talk  is  almost  out. 


LORD    EDWAKD    FITZGERALD.  57 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid  of  my  constancy  :  I  sincerely 
wish  I  could  be  otherwise,  for  it  makes  me  very  miserable. 
My  only  comfort  is,  that  I  think  I  am  taking  the  way  to  suc- 
ceed, besides  doing  what  is  right  for  a  man  of  spirit  to  do.    * 

The  uncertainty,  however,  is  dreadful,  and  requires  all  the 
resolution  one  is  master  of  to  make  one  stay.  I  am  at  times 
on  the  point  of  packing  off,  and  think  that  seeing  her — look- 
ing at  her  dear  face,  would  be  enough.  But  then  it  would  be 
productive  of  no  good  :  I  should  be  wretched, — disagreeable 
to  all  my  friends  and  not  have  even  the  consolation  I  have 
here,  of  thinking  that  I  am  doing  my  duty  as  a  man  and  an 
oflBcer.  Good  bye  again.  The  faithful  Tony  talks  of  you  a 
great  deal  :  he  and  I  have  long  conversations  about  you  all 
every  morning." 


The  strong  sense  which  he  entertained  of  his  duties  as  an 
officer, — to  which  all,  of  all  ranks,  that  ever  served  with  him 
bear  witness, — will  be  found  expressed  by  himself,  in  the  fol- 
lowing letter,  with  a  simplicity  and  earnestness  which  would 
seem  to  render  all  further  testimony  on  this  point  superfluous. 
There  is  however  one,  among  the  many  tributes  to  his  military 
character,  which  it  would  be  unjust  to  omit, — that  of  the  cele- 
brated Mr.  William  Cobbett,  who  was,  at  the  time  of  which 
we  are  speaking,  serjeant-major  of  the  54th,  and  had  even 
then,  it  is  said,  made  himself  distinguished  by  the  vigour  of 
his  talents.  To  Lord  Edward's  kindness  Mr.  Cobbett  owed 
his  subsequent  discharge  from  the  L«rmy  ;  *  and,  in  the  year 
1800,  as  he  himself  tells  us,  while  dining  one  day  with  Mr. 
Pitt,  on  being  asked  by  that  statesman  some  questions  respect- 
ing his  former  officer,  he  answered  that  "  Lord  Edward  was  a 
most  humane  and  excellent  man,  and  the  only  really  honest 
officer  he  ever  knew  in  the  army." 

"October,  28th,  1788. 
"  Indeed,  dearest  mother,  being  so  long  and  far  away  from 
you  is  terrible.     To  think  that  one  is  in  a  good  way  is  but 
poor  consolation.     However,  on  considering  all  things,  one  can 

*  "  I  got  my  discharge  from  tlie  army  by  the  great  kindness  of  poor 
Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  who  was  then  major  of  my  regiment." — 
Cobbett's  Advice  to  Young  Men. 


68  MEMOIRS    OF 

reconcile  one's  self  to  it  now  better  than  at  any  other  time. 
Certainly,  by  being  here  now  for  a  year,  I  have  a  better  plea, 
in  case  I  change  regiments,  to  stay  at  home,  than  if  I  had  re- 
mained there  upon  my  first  coming  on  full  pay.  Besides,  it  is 
doing  my  duty  myself,  according  to  those  strict  rules  I  require 
from  others,  and  entering  into  the  true,  proper  spirit  of  a 
soldier,  without  which  spirit  a  military  life  is  and  must  be  the 
devil.  No  person  of  feeling  and  justice  can  require  from 
others  what  he  wont  do  himself.  Besides,  one  learns,  I  am 
sure,  more  in  half  a  year  in  one's  regiment  than  in  two  years' 
reading.  Theory  without  practice  will  not  do  ;  and,  by  being 
lorn;  idle,  one  loses  that  confidence  in  one's  self  wiiich  is  neces- 
sary  for  an  officer  who  is  to  have  any  command. 

"  If  I  had  stayed  too,  I  should  always  have  been  miserable 
about  G  *  *.  I  could  not  have  enjoyed  any  thing.  1  am 
always  disagreeable  when  I  am  in  love,  and  perhaps  you  would 
all  have  grown  to  think  me  disagreeable.  You  know,  when  I 
am  with  you,  I  forget  the  comfort  you  are  to  me  ;  and  I 
sliould  of  course  not  have  had,  as  now,  the  consciousness  that 
I  am  doing  my  duty  to  keep  me  up.  Another  thing,  too,  I 
will  own,  that  after  the  part  dear  Leinster  has  acted,  1  should 
have  been  ashamed  to  show  my  face  in  Ireland.  The  feel  of 
being  ashamed  of  the  actions  of  one  we  love  is  dreadful,  and 
I  certainly  this  winter  would  not  have  supported  him,  though 
I  would  not  oppose  him  :  he  would  have  been  angry,  and 
there  would  have  been  a  coolness  which  would  have  vexed  me 
very  much.  I  have  had  many  quiet  serious  hours  here  to 
think  about  what  he  has  done,  and  I  cannot  reconcile  myself 
to  it  by  any  argument.  His  conduct  both  to  the  public  and 
individuals  is  not  what  it  ought  to  have  been.  In  short,  ray 
dear  mother,  it  hurts  me  very  much,  tliough  I  do  all  I  can  to 
get  the  better  of  it.  I  know  it  is  weakness  and  folly,  but 
then  the  action  is  done, — the  shame  is  incurred. 

"  Pray  tell  Ogilvie  that  I  seriously  beg  he  will  not  even 
mention  or  do  any  thing  about  my  lieutenant-colonelcy.  I  am 
determined  to  have  uotliing  till  I  am  out  of  parliament  :  at 
least  I  am  contented  with  my  rank  and  my  situation.  I  have 
no  ambition  for  rank  ;  and  however  I  might  be  flattered  by 
cettini::  on,  it  would  never  pnv  me  for  a  blush  for  mv  actions. 
Tiie  feeling  of  shame  is  what  I  never  could  bear.  The  mens 
coiiscia  rcdi   (Ogilvie  will  construe  this  for  you")  is  the  only 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  59 

thing  that  makes  life  supportable.  With  the  help  he  has 
given,  dear  fellow,  to  Kilrush,  and  mj  present  rank,  I  shall  do 
very  well.  And  pray  do  you  tell  Leinster  from  me,  that  I  do 
not  wish  to  purchase  at  present,  or  that  he  should  do  any 
thing  about  a  lieutenant-colonelcy.  I  know  dear  Ogilvie,  in 
his  affection  and  eagerness  for  me,  will  be  provoked  ;  but  then 
he  must  consider,  that,  feeling  this  way,  I  am  right.  Pray 
represent  it  strongly  to  him,  and  make  him  remember  how 
obstinate  I  am  when  I  once  take  a  resolution.  To  make  up 
for  all  this,  tell  him  I  am  going  on  prudently  in  the  money 
way  here,  and  am  in  hopes  to  return  with  a  little  cash  in  my 
pocket. 

"  I  have  been  obliged  to  stop  my  studying  for  some  time, 
and  have  been  employed  in  building  huts,  or  rather  barracks, 
for  a  part  of  our  regiment.  It  is  a  scheme  of  Lord  Dorces- 
ter's,  but  he  has  found  so  many  difficulties  opposed  to  it,  that 
it  was  never  undertaken.  These,  however,  I  have  got  over, 
notwithstanding  engineers,  artificers,  barrack-masters,  old  offi- 
cers, &c.  &c.,  and  hope  I  shall  succeed.  You  may  guess  how 
eager  I  have  been.  This  is  all  the  news  I  have  about  myself. 
Our  winter  is  setting  in  violently,  thank  God.  I  shall  visit 
you  with  the  swallows  : — I  wish  I  could  be  frozen  till  then. 
Good  bye  :  ten  thousand  loves." 

The  allusions,  in  the  foregoing  letter,  to  the  Duke  of  Leins- 
ter, require  some  e^^planation.  On  the  appointment  of  the 
Marquis  of  Buckingham,  for  the  second  time,  to  the  Lord 
Lieutenancy  of  Ireland,  the  popularity  which  his  first  short 
administration  had  obtained,  secured  for  him  a  reception  of 
the  most  enthusiastic  kind  ;  and  not  only  was  the  general  tone 
of  opposition  considerably  softened  down 'during  the  whole 
session  of  1788,  but  some  of  those  who  had  been,  up  to  this 
period,  most  constant  to  the  Whig  ranks,  now  thought  them- 
selves justified  in  supporting  and  even  taking  office  under  Lord 
Buckingham's  government.  Among  these  new  converts  to 
the  Castle  was  the  Duke  of  Leinster,  and  to  his  grace's  deser- 
tion from  the  standard  of  Opposition,  Lord  Edward's  letters, 
at  this  period,  allude. 


60  MEMOIRS    OF 

"November  1,  1788. 
"  MY  DEAR  OGILVIE, 

"I  am  sure  you  will  be  sorry  to  hear  you  were  a  good 

prophet,  in  foretelling  that  my  lieut.-colonel  would  go  home. 

It  is  exactly  as  you  said  :  he  has  taken  himself  off,  and  left 

me  the  honour  of  commanding  the  regiment  here.     Therefore, 

if  I  don't  get  the  king's  leave,  I  must  stay  two  years,  if  the 

regiment  don't  go  home.     I  have  written  to  uncle  Richmond, 

to  beg  if  he  will  procure  me  leave,  or  try  and  get  the  regiment 

home,  which  it  is  well  entitled  to,  as  it  has  been  fifteen  years 

in  this  country.     I  think  you  had  better  not  say  an>  thing  of 

this  to  mother  ;  and  caution  any  of  them  that  should  hear  of 

it  not  to  mention  it  to  her.     It  would  really  be  too  bad  to 

stay  here  two  years. 

*  *  *  * 

"  Good  bye,  my  good  friend  ;  I  wish  you  a  pleasant  winter, 
but  am  very  glad  I  do  not  pass  it  with  you  ;  for,  take  all  into 
the  bararain,  I  am  certainlv  better  here.  Leinster's  conduct 
is  too  foolish  and  too  shabby — I  hate  thinking  of  it  ;  I  am 
determined,  however,  it  shall  not  vex  me  ;  but  that  I  may  be 
totally  clear,  I  must  l3eg  you  will  not  mention  any  thing  about 
me  to  him.  This  hanged  majority  brought  me  into  one  scrape 
unwillingly,  but  for  the  time  to  come  I  am  determined  to  be 
clear.  Do  not,  my  dear  friend,  let  your  eagerness  for  my  wel- 
fare make  you  stir  in  this,  for  you  really  will  vex  me  very 
much  if  you  do  ;  you  know  I  am  an  odd  fellow,  and  you  must 
give  way  to  me. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  dear  Harry  has  got  into  a  little  kind 
of  a  scrape  with  uncle  Richmond  about  canvassing, — I  own  I 
think  it  was  natural  for  him  to  do  so  ;  but  in  the  particular 
situation  of  things  I  wish  he  had  not  taken  a  part,  as  Charles 
Fox  himself  was  not  concerned.  I  am  glad  I  was  away,  for 
I  certainly  would  not  have  canvassed  for  Hood,  Tony  says, 
if  Lord  Robert  goes  on  in  the  way  he  is  doing,  he  will  soon 
be  a  major,  I  l^elieve  Henry  and  I  are  the  only  two  honest 
ones  in  the  family.'^ 

It  was,  at  first,  evidently  the  intention  of  Lord  Edward,  as 
well  as  of  his  brother,  Lord  Henry,  not  to  identify  themselves 
with  the  Duke  of  Leinster's  new  line  of  politics,  but  to  remain 
in  opposition.      The  prospect,  however,  of  such  a  political 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  61 

schism  ia  the  family  exciting  alarm  in  the  Duke  of  Richmond, 
he  addressed  a  letter,  full  of  affectionate  remonstrance,  to 
Lord  Edward,  who  allowed  himself  to  be  so  far  softened  by 
his  uncle's  appeal  as  to  consent  that,  while  he  continued  the 
Duke  of  Leinster's  member,  his  vote  should  be  as  hitherto,  at 
his  grace's  disposal.  At  the  same  time,  it  will  be  seen,  while 
yielding  thus  to  family  feelings,  he  took  care  that  no  views  of 
interest  should  be  supposed  to  have  influenced  the  concession, 
nor  his  own  future  independence  compromised  by  the  accept- 
ance of  any  favor  from  those  he  joined. 

Considering  how  lax  were  the  notions  prevalent,  at  that 
period,  among  Irishmen,  of  both  parties,  on  the  subjects  of 
patronage  and  jobbing,  this  sacrifice,  on  the  part  of  Lord 
Edward,  of  the  fondest  object  of  his  ambition,  military  pro- 
motion, to  a  feeling  which  he  well  knew  all  connected  with 
him  would  consider  foolishly  punctilious,  required  no  ordinary 
effort  of  character,  and  most  abundantly  disproves  the  story 
so  often  repeated,  that  to  his  mortification  at  having  been 
passed  over  by  the  government  on  some  occasion  of  promo- 
tion, the  whole  origin  of  his  revolutionary  fervour  is  to  be  at- 
tributed. 

"November  21,  1788. 
"dearest  mother, 

•  "  I  have  got  a  letter  from  uncle  Richmond,  "which  was  as 
kind  as  possible  ;  every  thing  he  does  only  makes  one  love  him 
the  more.  He  says,  in  his  letter,  that,  as  Leinster  is  come 
over  completely  to  government,  he  can  see  no  reason  why  I 
should  not  now  act  with  my  brother  and  uncle.  In  my  answer 
I  have  agreed  with  him,  and  said  that  I  certainly  shall  ;  be- 
cause, upon  consideration,  though  I  think  Leinster  w^rong,  and 
told  him  so  beforehand,  yet  as  he  has  taken  that  part,  it  would 
be  wrong  not  to  support  him — we  being  certainly  his  mem- 
bers, and  brought  in  by  him  with  an  idea  that  he  might  de- 
pend upon  our  always  acting  with  him. 

*'  With  all  this,  however,  I  am  determmed  not  to  take  any 
thing,  lieut.-colonelcy  or  any  thing  else.  I  wish  my  actions 
not  to  be  biassed  by  any  such  motive  ;  but  that  I  may  feel  I 
am  only  acting  in  this  manner,  because  I  think  it  right.  Be- 
sides, by  my  taking  nothing,  Leinster  can  the  more  easily  pro- 
vide for  his  friends,  some  of  whom  he  is  bound  in  honour  to 


62  MEMOIRS    OF 

make  provision  for.  I  have  written  to  uncle  Richmond  to 
this  same  purpose,  telling  liow  I  meant  to  act,  and  liow  I  felt,- 
and  therefore  trust  he  will  not  persist  in  trying  to  get  me  a 
lieut.-coloaelcy.  I  am  content  as  I  am  ; — I  am  not  ambitious 
to  get  on.  1  like  the  service  for  its  own  sake,  whether  major, 
lieut.-colonel,  or  general,  it  is  the  same  to  me.  High  rank  in 
it,  I  do  not  aspire  to  ;  if  I  am  found  fit  for  command,  I  shall 
get  it ;  if  I  am  not,  God  knows,  I  am  better  without  it.  The 
sole  aml^ition  I  have  is  to  be  deserving  :  to  deserve  a  reward 
is  to  me  far  pleasanter  than  to  obtain  it.  I  am  afraid  you 
will  say  I  am  foolish  about  this  ;  but  as  it  is  a  folly  that  hurts 
nobody,  it  may  have  its  fling.  I  will  not,  however,  trouble 
you  any  more  about  all  this  hanged  stuff,  for  I  am  tired  of 
thinlving  of  it. 

"  I  will  now  give  you  some  account  of  myself,  what  I  do, 
and  how  I  do.  Our  winter  is  quite  set  in,  and  the  river  frozen 
over,  and  I  am  skating  from  morning  till  night.  I  don't  know 
how  long  the  rage  will  last,  but  while  it  does,  it  is  very  plea- 
sant :  I  begin  in  the  morning  as  soon  as  it  is  light,  stay  till 
breakfast,  go  out,  and  stay  again  till  it  is  time  to  dress  and 
parade.  Luckily,  I  have  no  other  necessary  business  now, 
for  our  drilling  is  over  till  spring,  except  twice  a  week  taking 
a  good  long  march  ;  the  snow,  I  believe,  will  soon  stop  that, 
and  then  I  mean  to  go  to  Quebec  in  snow  shoes.  I  believe  I 
shall  be  out  most  of  the  winter.  I  have  two  or  three  hunting 
parties  to  go  on,  and  they  seldom  last  longer  than  a  fortnight ; 
these,  and  my  journey  to  Quebec,  and  some  excursions  from 
thence,  will  take  up  most  of  my  winter.  I  long  to  give  you 
an  account  of  some  of  my  trips  :  the  idea  of  being  out  of 
doors,  notwithstanding  the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  and  of 
overcoming  all  the  difficulties  of  nature,  by  the  ingenuity  of 
man,  delights  me.  Every  body  who  has  tried  this  says,  it  is 
much  the  warmest  way  of  living  in  winter  ;  for,  by  being  in 
the  woods,  you  are  sheltered  from  the  winds  ;  and,  at  night, 
by  clearing  away  the  snow,  banking  it  up  round,  and  in  the 
middle  of  the  space  making  a  large  tire,  you  are  much  warmer 
than  in  the  best  house.     This  is  what  I  hear. 

"  You  may  guess  how  eager  I  am  to  try  if  I  like  the  woods 
in  winter  as  vrell  as  in  summer.  I  believe  I  shall  never  again 
be  prevailed  on  to  live  in  a  house.  I  long  to  teach  you  all 
how  to  make  a  good  spruce  bed.     Three  of  the  coldest  nights 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  63 

we  have  had  yet,  I  slept  in  the  woods  with  only  one  blanket, 
and  was  just  as  coraiortable  as  in  a  room.  It  was  in  a  party 
with  Gen.  Carleton,  we  went  about  twenty  miles  from  this  to 
look  at  a  fine  tract  of  land  that  had  been  passed  over  in 
winter.  You  may  guess  how  I  enjoyed  this  expedition,  being 
where,  in  all  probability,  there  had  never  been  but  one  person 
before  ;  v/e  struck  the  land  the  first  night  and  lay  there  ;  we 
spent  three  days  afterwards  in  going  over  it.  It  will  be  now 
soon  settled.  I  cannot  describe  all  the  feelings  one  has  in 
these  excursions,  when  one  wakens, — perhaps  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,  in  a  fine  open  forest,  all  your  companions  snoring 
about  you,  the  moon  shining  through  the  trees,  the  burning 
of  the  fire, — in  short  every  thing  strikes  you.  Dearest,  dear- 
est mother,  how  I  have  thought  of  you  at  those  times,  and  of 
all  at  dear  Frescati !  and  after  being  tired  of  thinking,  lying 
down  like  a  dog,  and  falling  asleep  till  daybreak  ;  then  getting 
up,  no  dressing,  or  clothing,  or  trouble,  but  just  giving  oneself 
a  shake,  and  away  to  the  spring  to  wash  one's  face.  I  have 
had  two  parties  with  the  savages  which  are  still  pleasanter, — 
you  may  guess  the  reason — there  are  des  dames,  who  are  the 
most  comical  creatures  in  the  world." 

"December,  1788. 
"my  dear  ogilvie, 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  comfortable  long  letter 

of  September  25th.     I  am  not  afironted  at  your  remark  on  a 

'  paucity  of  ideas '  and  *  an  empty  skull,'  and  agree  with  you 

that  they  are  great  blessings.     Notwithstanding  you  declare 

you  did  not  mean  me,  yet  I  do  plead  a  little  guilty  to  a 

'  paucity  of  ideas.'     I  like  my  mother's  thinking  I  should  be 

atfronted  !    Tell  her  that  in  New  Brunswick  one  cannot  afford 

to  be  affronted  vv^ith  those  one  loves.     One  of  the  good  things 

we  learn  by  absence  from  friends  is,  seeing  the  folly  of  being 

huffed  or  affronted  at  trifles.     I  often   tliink   now,  what   a 

number  of  happy  times  I  have  lost  by  being  angry  at  things 

that  have  passed  when  we  were  all  together  ;  whereas  here, 

where  I  am  among  people  I  don't  care  much  for,  I  am  never 

out  of  temper.      It   really   is,  when   one   considers   it,    too 

ridiculous." 

"February  2,  1789. 

"  You  see,  my  dear  0.,  by  this  letter  that  though  you  have 


64  MEMOIRS    OF 

not  heard  from  me,  it  is  not  my  fault.  Ever  since  the  setting 
in  of  winter  we  have  been  blocked  up,  and  have  had  no  com- 
munication with  New  York,  where  all  the  packets  go  now.  I 
have  been  snow-shoeing  continually,  reading  a  good  deal,  and 
improving,  I  think,  in  my  profession.  If  I  had  some  of  the 
people  I  loved  with  me,  I  should  lead  a  happy  life, — the  only 
drawback  I  have  is  the  distance  from  them. 

"  I  have  been  out  hunting,  and  like  it  very  much, — it  makes 
me  un  peu  sauvage,  to  be  sure.  I  am  to  set  out  in  two  days 
for  Canada  ;  it  is  a  journey  of  one  hundred  and  seventy-five 
miles,  and  I  go  straight  through  the  woods.  There  is  an 
officer  of  the  regiment  goes  with  me.  We  make  altogether  a 
party  of  five, — Tony,  two  woodsmen,  the  officer,  and  myself. 
We  take  all  our  provisions  with  us  on  tabargins.  It  will 
appear  strange  to  you,  or  any  people  in  England,  to  think  of 
starting  in  February,  with  four  feet  snow  on  the  ground,  to 
march  through  a  desert  wood  of  one  hundred  and  seventy-five 
miles  ;  but  it  is  nothing.  You  may  guess  we  have  not  much 
baggage.  It  will  be  a  charming  journey,  I  think,  and  quite 
new.  We  are  to  keep  a  reckoning  the  same  as  at  sea.  I  am 
to  steer,  but  under  the  direction  of  a  woodsman.  I  was  out 
on  an  excursion  the  other  day,  and  steered  the  whole  way, 
and  though  I  traversed  a  great  deal  in  between  thirty  and 
thirty-five  miles,  out  and  in,  I  was  not  a  half-mile  out  of  my 
course  where  I  intended  to  strike. 

"  Besides  this  being  a  pleasant  journey,  it  will  be  also  in- 
structive, as  I  go  through  the  frontiers  of  our  provinces,  and 
see  the  kind  of  country,  if  ever  there  is  a  war,  that  we  are 
likely  to  act  in.  A  journey,  too,  of  this  kind,  opens  one's 
eyes  with  regard  to  what  men  can  do,  and  shows  that  there  is 
almost  no  difficulty  that  cannot  be  overcome  by  the  perse- 
verance and  ingenuity  of  man.  It  certainly  would  a})pear  odd 
to  a  European  officer,  who  had  not  passed  a  winter  here,  to 
be  told  that  winter  would  be  the  best  time  to  move  troops  ; 
and  yet,  from  what  I  have  seen,  I  am  almost  confident  it 
would  be  so.  However,  I  shall  know  better  after  my  journey, 
I  really  believe  the  only  difficult  part  would  be,  getting  over 
the  prejudice  of  obstinate  fools.  General  Carleton,  who  has 
seen  a  great  deal  of  service,  is  of  my  opinion  ;  he  began  to 
try  it  the  latter  end  of  last  war,  and  succeeded  so  far  as  to 
get  his  regiment  on  snow  shoes,  but  had  not  tried  any  long 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  65 

marches,  and  since  the  war  it  has  fallen  through.  I  wanted 
to  get  snow  shoes  for  our  men  this  year,  but  it  was  too  ex- 
pensive. 

**  You  may  judge,  with  all  these  ideas  floating  in  my  head, 
how  I  long  to  be  on  my  journey  :  our  route  will  be  quite  a 
new  one,  and  has  not  yet  been  gone  by  any  body  except 
Indians.  How  delightful  it  will  be  when  we  strike  the  river 
St.  Lawrence,  after  being  about  twenty  days  m  tlie  woods  ; 
while,  on  the  road,  every  river,  or  any  thing  else  we  meet, 
will  be  a  kind  of  discovery  !  Our  course  is  to  be  north, 
60°  30'  west : — but  I  fear  I  shall  tire  you  with  all  this,  so  I 
won't  trouble  you  any  more.  When  at  Quebec,  I  will  write 
to  you.  As  soon  as  we  are  well  rested,  I  propose  setting  out 
from  thence  to  Xiagara  ;  but  my  letter  from  Quebec  will 
inform  you  better  of  my  schemes,  as  I  shall  know  more  of  the 
matter  then  ;  and  while  there,  I  expect  to  get  letters  from 
some  of  you. 

"  I  have  mislaid  your  letter,  but  remember  you  say  some- 
thing about  a  road  : — I  certainly  did  order  Feniarty  to  do  it. 
Les  ahsens  ont  toiijours  tort ;  therefore  I  must  pay  for  it.  It 
would  be  too  bad  to  let  the  poor  man  suffer  :  pray  tell  Wolf 
I  feel  very  much  obliged  to  him  for  the  pains  he  has  been  at 
about  it.  I  think  it  very  shabby  in  the  other  gentleman  of 
the  county  to  have  taken  advantage  of  my  absence,  but  I 
believe  there  is  un  hien  clique  of  fellows  in  that  county  :  pray 
do  not  let  any  of  them  into  Kilrush,  for  they  will  only  distress 
and  domineer  over  the  poor  tenants.  I  am  glad  to  hear  that, 
upon  the  whole,  the  little  spot  gets  on.  I  believe  you  will 
make  something  of  it  at  last.  So  much  for  business.  I  have 
only  spent  my  pay  yet,  and  shall  not  want  any  money  till  I 
go  home.  I  am  richer  than  ever  I  was  yet.  I  have  always 
^25  or  i630  to  the  good,  and  pay  ready  money.  I  have  given 
away  a  good  deal  besides — more  than  I  did  at  home.  I  cer- 
tainly manage  very  well. 

%!j,  -«L»  ■«i*  «A»  tS^  ^Ag 

'iS  'I^  -T*  -T*  'T*  'l^ 

"  Give  my  love  to  all  the  dear  girls.  Tell  them  I  am  as 
great  a  fool  as  ever  :  I  am  afraid  that  it  will  stick  to  me  all 
the  days  of  my  life.  I  often  long  to  lay  aside  the  character 
of  major  commanding  his  majesty's  regiment,  to  play  the  fool 
and  buffoon  ; — I  am  sure  if  Ciss  was  here  I  should.  I  know 
this  will  provoke  you. 


66  MEMOIRS    OF 

"  God  bless  you,  my  dear  Ogilvie.  Ten  thousand  loves  to 
dearest  mother  Tell  her  h  pelU  sauvagc  will  think  of  her 
often  in  the  woods.  Indeed,  the  more  savage  I  am,  tlie  more 
I  love  her.  She  has  a  rope  about  ray  heart  that  gives  hard 
tugs  at  it,  and  it  is  all  I  can  do  not  to  give  way.  Good  bye 
again.     I  hate  ending  a  letter." 

''dearest  mother, 

"  Quebec,  March  U,  1789. 

"  I  got  here  yesterday,  after  a  very  long,  and  what  some 
people  would  think,  a  very  tedious  and  fatiguing  journey  ;  but 
to  me  it  was  at  worst  only  a  little  fatiguing  ;  and,  to  make 
up  for  that,  it  was  delightful,  and  quite  new.  We  were  thirty 
days  on  our  march,  twenty-six  of  which  we  were  in  the  wood, 
and  never  saw  a  soul  but  our  own  party. 

"  You  must  know  we  came  through  a  part  of  the  country 
that  had  been  always  reckoned  impassable.  In  short,  instead 
of  going  a  long  way  about,  we  determined  to  try  and  get 
straight  through  the  woods,  and  see  what  kind  of  country  it 
was.  I  believe  I  mentioned  my  party  in  a  letter  to  Ogilvie 
before  I  left  St.  Anne's  or  Fredericktown  :  it  was  an  officer 
of  the  regiment,  Tony,  and  two  woodsmen.  The  officer  and 
I  used  to  draw  part  of  our  baggage  day  about,  and  the  other 
day  steer,  which  we  did  so  well,  that  we  made  tlie  point  we 
intended  within  ten  miles.  We  were  only  wrong  in  comput- 
ing our  distances,  and  making  them  a  little  too  great,  which 
obli<2:ed  us  to  follow  a  new  course,  and  make  a  river  which  led 
us  round  to  Quebec,  instead  of  going  straight  to  it.  How- 
ever, we  gained  by  it  ;  for  though,  when  we  took  the  river, 
we  were  only  twenty  miles  from  Quebec,  yet  the  country  be- 
tween was  so  mountainous  and  bad,  we  should  have  been  two 
days  longer  than  by  the  river.  I  am  talking,  I  fear,  unintel- 
ligible language  to  you,  but  I  hope  soon,  dear  mother,  to  ex- 
plain it. 

"  I  expect  my  leave  by  the  first  despatches,  and  will  lose  no 
time  when  I  get  it.  I  shall  not  be  able  to  leave  this  part  of 
the  world  till  May,  as  I  cannot  get  my  leave  before  that. 
How  I  do  long  to  see  you  !  Your  old  love.  Lord  Dorchester, 
is  very  civil  to  me.  I  must,  though,  tell  you  a  little  more  of 
the  journey  :  after  making  the  river,  we  fell  in  with  some 
savages,  and  travelled  with  them  to  Quebec  ;  they  were  very 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  6*1 

kind  to  US,  and  said  we  were  '  all  one  brother ' — all  '  one  In- 
dian.' They  fed  us  the  whole  time  we  were  with  them.  You 
would  have  laughed  to  have  seen  me  carrying  an  old  squaw's 
pack,  which  was  so  heavy  1  could  hardly  waddle  under  it. 
However,  I  was  well  paid  whenever  we  stopped,  for  she 
ahvays  gave  me  the  best  bits,  and  most  soup,  and  took  as 
much  care  of  me  as  if  I  had  been  her  own  son  :  in  short,  I 
was  quite  V enfant  chiri.  We  were  quite  sorry  to  part  :  the 
old  lady  and  gentleman  both  kissed  me  very  heartily.  I  gave 
the  old  lady  one  of  Sophia's  silver  spoons,  which  pleased  her 
very  much. 

"  When  we  got  here,  you  may  guess  what  figures  we  were  : 
we  had  not  shaved  or  washed  during  the  journey  ;  our  blan- 
ket, coats,  and  trousers  all  worn  out  and  pieced  : — in  short, 
we  went  to  two  or  three  houses  and  they  would  not  let  us  in. 
There  was  one  old  ladv,  exactlv  the  hotesse  in  Gil  Bias,  elk  me 
^rit  la  mesiire  du  pied  jiisqib'  a  la  tele,  and  told  me  there  was 
one  room,  without  a  stove  or  bed,  next  a  billiard  room,  which 
I  might  have  if  I  pleased  ;  and  when  I  told  her  we  were  gen- 
tlemen, she  very  quietly  said,  '  I  dare  say  you  are,'  and  off 
she  went.  However,  at  last  we  got  lodgings  in  an  ale-house, 
and  you  may  guess  eat  well  and  slept  well,  and  went  next  day, 
well  dressed,  with  one  of  Lord  Dorchester's  aides-de-camp,  to 
triumph  over  the  old  lady  ;  in  short, — exactly  the  story  in  Gil 
Bias.  We  are  quite  curiosities  here  after  our  journey  ;  some 
think  we  were  mad  to  undertake  it  ;  some  think  we  were  lost; 
some  will  have  it  we  were  starved  ;  in  short,  there  are  a  thou- 
sand lies,  but  we  are  safe  and  well,  enjoying  rest  and  good 
eating  most  completely.  One  ought  really  to  take  these  fillips 
now  and  then  ;  they  make  one  enjoy  life  a  great  deal  more. 

"  The  hours  here  are  a  little  inconvenient  to  us  as  vet  : 
whenever  we  wake  at  night,  we  want  to  eat,  the  same  as  in 
the  woods,  and  as  soon  as  we  eat,  we  want  to  sleep.  In  our 
journey  we  were  always  up  two  hours  before  day,  to  load  and 
get  ready  to  march  ;  we  used  to  stop  between  three  and  four, 
and  it  generally  took  us  from  that  till  night  to  shovel  out  the 
snow,  cut  wood,  cook,  and  get  ready  for  night  ;  so  that  imme- 
diately after  our  suppers,  we  were  asleep,  and  whenever  any 
one  wakes  in  the  night,  he  puts  some  wood  on  the  fire,  and 
eats  a  bit  before  he  lies  down  again  ;  but  for  my  part,  I  was 
not  much  troubled  with  waking  in  the  night. 


68  MEMOIRS    OF 

"  I  really  do  think  there  is  no  luxury  equal  to  that  of  lying 
before  a  good  fire  on  a  good  spruce  bed,  after  a  good  supper, 
and  a  hard  moose  chase  in  a  line  clear  frosty  moonlight  starry 
night.  But  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  this,  you  must  under- 
stand what  a  moose  chase  is  :  the  man  himself  runs  the  moose 
down  by  pursuing  the  track.  Your  success  in  killing  depends 
on  the  number  of  people  you  have  to  pursue  and  relieve  one 
another  in  going  first  (which  is  the  fatiguing  part  of  snow- 
shoeing),  and  on  the  depth  and  hardness  of  the  snow  ;  for 
when  the  snow  is  hard,  and  hast  a  crust,  the  moose  cannot  get 
on,  as  it  cuts  his  legs,  and  then  he  stops  to  make  battle.  But 
when  the  snow  is  soft,  though  it  be  above  his  belly,  he  will  go 
on,  three,  four,  or  five  days,  for  then  the  man  cannot  get  on 
so  fast,  as  the  snow  is  heavy,  and  he  only  gets  his  game  by 
perseverance, — an  Indian  never  gives  him  up. 

"  We  had  a  fine  chase  after  one,  and  ran  him  down  in  a 
day  and  a  half,  though  the  snow  was  very  soft  ;  but  it  was  so 
deep  the  animal  was  up  to  his  belly  every  step.  We  started 
him  about  twelve  o'clock  one  day,  left  our  baggage,  took 
three  days'  bread,  two  days'  pork,  our  axe  and  fireworks,  and 
pursued.  He  beat  us  at  first  all  to  nothing  ;  towards  even- 
ing we  had  a  sight  of  him,  but  he  beat  us  again  :  we  encamp- 
ed that  night,  eat  our  bit  of  pork,  and  gave  chase  again,  as 
soon  as  we  could  see  the  track  iu  the  morning.  In  about  an 
hour  we  roused  the  fellow  a2:ain,  and  off  he  set,  fresh  to  all 
appearance  as  ever  ;  but  in  about  two  hours  after  we  perceiv- 
ed his  steps  grew  shorter,  and  some  time  after  we  got  sight. 
He  still,  however,  beat  us  ;  but  at  last  we  evidently  perceived 
he  began  to  tire  ;  we  saw  he  began  to  turn  oftener  ;  we  got 
accordingly  courage,  and  pursued  faster,  and  at  last,  for  three 
quarters  of  an  hour,  in  fine  open  wood,  pursued  him  all  the 
way  in  sight,  and  came  within  shot  ; — he  stopped,  but  in  vain, 
poor  animal. 

"  I  cannot  help  being  sorry  now  for  the  poor  creature, — and 
was  then.  At  first  it  was  charming,  but  as  soon  as  we  had 
him  in  our  power,  it  was  melancholy  ;  however,  it  was  soon 
over,  and  it  was  no  pain  to  him.  If  it  was  not  for  this  last 
part,  it  would  be  a  delightful  amusement.  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
though,  that  in  a  few  hours  the  good  passion  wore  oft',  and  the 
animal  one  predominated.  I  enjoyed  most  heartily  the  eathig 
him  and  cooking  him  : — iu  short,  I  forgot  the  animal,  and 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  (59 

only  thought  of  my  hunger  and  fatigue.  "We  are  beasts, 
dearest  mother,  I  am  sorry  to  say  it.  In  two  days  after,  we 
joined  our  baggage,  and  pursued  our  journey. 

"  My  letter  is  getting  too  long,  and  all  about  myself  ; — you 
know  I  hate  that,  but  I  must  give  you  some  of  my  intended 
motions.  I  set  out  for  Niagara,  as  soon  as  possible,  and  by 
my  return  expect  to  find  my  leave,  and  a  ship  to  take  me  to 
mv  dearest  mother.  God  alone  knows  how  I  lono:  to  be  with 
you  !  my  heart  cannot  he  content  while  I  am  so  far  away 
from  you.  Give  my  love  to  all.  How  I  long  to  feel  all  your 
arms  about  my  neck  ! — but,  if  I  give  way  to  these  thoughts, 
I  shall  be  good  for  nothing.  As  it  is,  I  am  always  low  spirit- 
ed after  writing,  for  two  days  at  least  : — otherwise  perfectly 
well.  I  am  sure  it  will  be  pleasant  to  you  to  find  that  cold 
as  well  as  heat  agrees  with  me  ;  so  you  may  be  always  easy 
about  me,  dearest  mother.  If  G  *  *  should  love  me,  when 
I  go  home,  I  shall  be  the  happiest  fellow  in  the  world, — that 
is  the  only  drawback  I  feel  in  the  happiness  of  seeing  you  all 
so  soon. 

"  Pray  write  to  uncle  Richmond  ;  I  would  write,  if  there 
was  time,  but  I  have  only  time  to  fill  up  this.  Give  my  affec- 
tionate love  to  him.  Ten  thousand  million  blessings  attend 
you  all,  dearest,  dearest  mother.  I  will  see  you  soon, — what 
happiness  !  It  has  been  a  long  year,  but  I  did  all  I  could  to 
shorten  it.  I  wish  I  was  in  the  woods,  tired  and  sleepy,  I 
should  soon  forget  you  all.  Love  to  dear  aunt  Louisa.  When 
I  end  a  letter,  the  thoughts  of  you  all  come  so  thick  upon  me, 
I  don't  know  which  to  speak  to, — so  in  a  lump,  God  bless 
you,  men,  women,  and  children.     I  am  going  foolish. 

While  his  lordship  was  engaged  in  this  difficult  and  adven- 
turous journey,  out  of  which  none  but  a  spirit  and  frame 
hardy  as  his  own  could  have  contrived  to  extract  enjoyment, 
affairs  interesting  both  to  his  family  and  himself  were  taking 
place  in  England,  were,  on  account  of  the  serious  illness  of 
the  king,  at  the  commencement  of  the  year,  it  had  become 
necessary  to  bring  under  the  consideration  of  Parliament  the 
speedy  establishment  of  a  Regency.  The  Duke  of  Leinster, 
whose  late  desertion  from  the  ranks  of  the  Opposition  had 
been  regarded  less,  perhaps,  with  anger  than  regret  by  his 


TO  MEMOIRS    OF 

party,  was  now,  by  the  line  be  took  on  the  great  question  of 
the  Regency,  iu  tlie  Irish  House  of  Lords,  restored  to  his 
natural  position  ;  and  was  one  of  the  personages  deputed  to 
carry  that  memorable  Address  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  on 
which,  from  the  glimpse  it  gave  of  the  consequences  likely  to 
arise  from  the  exercise  of  a  separate  will  by  Ireland,  was 
founded  one  of  the  plausable  pretexts  for  the  extinction  of 
her  Legislature. 

The  following  letter  of  Mr.  Fox  to  Lord  Henry  Fitzgerald, 
written  during  the  progress  of  the  Regency  Bill  through  Par- 
liament, will  show  that  Mr.  Fox's  opinion  of  the  short  aber- 
ration of  the  Duke  of  Leinster  coincided  with  that  of  Lord 
Edward,  and  mav  also  convey  some  notion  of  the  kind  and 
friendly  interest  with  which  the  latter  was  always  regarded  by 
that  distin2:uished  statesmen. 


'o" 


"  MY  DEAR  HEXRY, 


"  Bath,  February  1,  IV  89. 


"  I  am  sure  you  will  not  much  wonder  at  my  not  having 
yet  answered  your  letter,  when  you  consider  that  I  have  had 
both  sickness  and  business  to  prevent  me.  You  may  assure  the 
Duke  of  Leinster  from  me  that  nothing  can  give  me  greater 
satisfaction  than  the  prospect  of  our  acting  together  in  poli- 
tics, and  you  know,  though  I  could  not  so  far  dissemble  as  to 
say  I  apin'oved  of  what  I  did  not,  I  never  had  a  feeling  to- 
wards him  inconsistent  with  that  kindness  which  naturally  be- 
longs to  so  long,  and  in  the  early  part  of  our  lives,  so  very 
intimate  an  acquaintance.  AYith  respect  to  you  and  Edward, 
I  must  be  ungrateful  indeed,  if  I  did  not  consider  the  oppor- 
tunity of  showing  my  friendship  to  you  two,  as  one  of  the 
pleasantest  circumstances  attending  power.  One  of  the  first 
acts  of  the  Re2:encv  will  be  to  make  Edward  lieut.-colonel  of 
the  Royal  Irish  ;  and  if  a  scheme,  which  is  in  agitation,  takes 
place,  I  think  I  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  getting  for  you, 
too,  a  lift  in  your  profession,  which  I  take  for  granted  is  your 
principal  object.  As  I  shall  probably  return  to  my  old  office 
of  Foreia'n  Affairs,  I  should  be  glad  to  know  whether  vou  or 
Edward  have  any  inclination  to  foreign  employment,  that  I 
may  have  a  view  to  vour  wishes  in  future  arrano-ements.  With 
regard  to  Lord  Robert,  he  must  wait  a  little  j  but  if  our  ad- 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  71 

ministration  continues,  you  may  be  assured  that  his  prospects 
shall  not  be  the  worse  for  one  cousin  ijeing  in  power  rather 
than  another.  Pray  give  my  love  to  the  D.  L.,  and  believe 
me,  my  dear  Henry, 

"  Most  sincerely  yours, 

"  C.  J.  Fox." 

The  plan  of  Lord  Edward's  route  through  the  woods  was 
forwarded  from  Quebec  to  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  by  Mr. 
Hamilton  Moore,  with  the  letter  that  follows  : — 

"  Quebec,  May  22,  1789. 
"my    LORD    DUKE, 

"  I  take  the  libertv  of  enclosin<2:  to  your  "rrace,  by  the  hands 
of  Mr.  Jones,  a  sketch  of  Lord  Edward's  route  from  Fred- 
erickstown,  in  New  Brunswick,  to  this  place.  It  was  really 
an  arduous  and  dangerous  undertaking,  entirely  through  unin- 
habited woods,  morasses,  and  mountains,  a  route  never  before 
attempted,  even  by  the  Indians.  He  was  only  attended  by  a 
Mr.  Brisbane,  a  brother  officer,  and  his  own  servant.  In 
such  expeditions  lord  and  servant  are  alike,  for  each  must 
carry  his  ov.'n  provisions.  They  accomplished  the  journey  in 
twent3'-six  days,  lying  out  of  course  at  night  in  the  woods, 
without  any  covering  except  their  blanket-coats.  They  steered 
by  compass,  and  so  well  as  to  enter  the  river  St.  Lawrence, 
witliiu  a  league  of  Quebec,  in  a  direct  line  from  Fredericks- 
town.  Your  grace  will  perceive  the  journey  was  accomplished 
in  175  miles, — the  way  always  before  travelled,  by  the 
rivers  St.  John,  Madwaska,  and  Kamouraska,  being  at  least 
3T5  miles. 

"  Lord  Edward  left  this  the  latter  end  of  April  in  high 
health  and  spirits,  on  his  route  to  Europe,  by  the  river  Mis- 
sissippi and  the  gulf  of  Mexico,  and  through  Spain  ;  it  w^ill  be 
a  tedious  journey,  the  entrance  of  the  river  being  upwards  of 
600  leagues  from  hence.  I  shall  perhaps  hear  of  Lord  Ed- 
ward on  his  journey  ;  any  thing  that  occurs,  the  least  inte- 
resting to  your  grace's  family,  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of  com- 
municating, as  a  countryman  feeling  highly  interested  for 
everv  Ijranch  of  it.  Lord  Edward  has  met  with  the  esteem 
and  admiration  of  all  here,  and,  I  must  say,  witiiout  flattery, 


T2  MEMOIRS    OF 

deservedly  so — and  I  hope  yet  to  see  him  at  the  head  of  his 
profession,  for  which  he  seems  so  well  formed. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  be,  &c. 

'*  Hamilton  Moore." 


II 


"  Quebec,  April  12th,  1789. 
MY   DEAR    OGILVIE, 

"  You  or  my  mother  will  have  got  by  this  time  the  letter  I 
wrote  on  my  arrival.  I  had  not  then  perfectly  determined  on 
my  future  movements,  but  my  plans  are  now  all  fixed.  I 
found,  upon  inquiry,  that  there  was  no  getting  from  hence 
directly  till  June.  I  therefore  determined  to  make  the  best 
of  my  time  here,  by  seeing  all  our  outposts,  and  to  do  that 
perfectly  it  will  take  me  to  the  month  of  July,  as  they  are 
more  extensive  than  I  thought.  Now  when  I  get  to  the 
upper  country,  it  will  not  make  more  than  a  month's  difference 
whether  I  go  down  the  Mississippi  to  New  Orleans  or  return 
here.  I  have  therefore  resolved  to  take  that  tour  :  it  will,  to 
be  sure,  make  three  months  difference  in  the  time  of  seeinar 
you  ;  but  then  I  really  think  the  object  is  worth  while.  I 
can  never  have  such  another  opportunity  :  certainly  I  shall 
never  be  here  again  at  twenty-five,  and  in  good  health. 

"  I  have  a  great  many  struggles  with  myself  a1)out  it : — the 
temptation  of  going  home  and  seeing  you  all,  and  living  quietly 
with  you  at  Frescati  till  the  regiment  returns,  is  very  great. 
But  then  again  the  curiosity  I  have  to  make  this  tour, — and 
I  may  say,  indeed,  I  always  have  had  the  desire,  though  I 
thought  it  very  unlikely  I  should  ever  be  able  to  put  it  in 
execution.  Tlien  again  when  I  consider  that  I  shall  see  a 
country  which  must  soon  be  a  scene  of  action,  and  that  very 
probably  I  may  be  myself  employed  there,  I  am  spurred  on  to 
undertake  it.  I  have,  besides,  some  schemes  of  my  own, 
which  this  journey  will  be  of  great  use  in  clearing  up  my  ideas 
upon  :  they  are  too  long  to  mention  now,  but  when  we  meet 
we  will  talk  them  over. 

**  You  see  I  either  have,  or  fancy  I  have,  good  reasons  for 
undertaking  the  journey  ;  at  home  you  will  think  it,  perhaps, 
a  little  mad,  but  if  vou  were  here  I  am  sure  vou  would  do  it 
yourself.  It  will  be  a  little  fatiguing,  but  that  you  know  I 
don't  mind.  It  will  not  be  very  expensive,  particularly  as  I 
go  all  the  first  part  with  a  relief  of  troops  that  are  proceeding 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  '13 

up  as  far  as  Lake  Superior.  I  am  not  quite  determined 
whether  I  will  go  up  quite  so  far,  perhaps  only  as  far  as  De- 
troit, from  that  to  the  Fort  Pitt,  and  from  thence  to  the 
Ohio,  and  down  it  to  the  Missisippi.  However,  before  I  set 
off,  YOU  shall  hear.  When  once  1  begin  to  go  south,  I  shall 
go  faster  than  my  letter. 

*'  I  long  to  set  out.  You  cannot  think  how  eager  I  am 
about  this  journey — ■/  ai  la  tete  month  about  it.  If  it  were 
not  for  the  time  it  will  keep  me  from  dearest,  dearest  mother, 
I  should  be  perfectly  happy  in  the  idea  of  it :  but  then  again, 
when  I  think  the  little  difference  it  will  make,  and  that  the 
longer  one  is  away  the  happier  one  is  to  meet,  and  that  I  shall 
have  so  much  to  tell  her  ! — why  I  shall  have  stories  enough 
to  set  her  to  sleep  for  a  year.  I  expect  in  the  winter  to 
have  you  all  about  me,  listening  to  all  the  wonders  I  have 
seen. 

"  I  heard  about  you  all  from  a  woman  here,  an  acquaint- 
ance of  Mrs.  Ward's,  but  I  have  not  had  any  letters  from 
yourselves  since  November.  It  is  terrible  to  be  so  long  with- 
out letters,  but  as  I  heard  you  were  all  well,  I  am  easy.  We 
M'e  all  anxious  here  to  know  about  the  Regency.  I  have  no 
idea  what  turn  affairs  will  take  :  there  certainly  will  be  great 
confusion.  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  of  dis-service  to  England  in 
the  present  state  of  Europe  ;  but  it  will  be  all  settled  by  the 
time  I  come,  so  I  won't  trouble  my  brain  about  it. 

^  jji  H:  >!'  ^  >i« 

"  How  did  poor  Kilrush  do  this  summer  ?  I  should  like  to 
hear  about  it.  I  will  write  to  mother  by  another  post,  that 
goes  from  this  on  the  18th,  though  I  own  I  am  a  little  afraid. 
I  know  she  will  be  angry  with  me  for  a  short  while,  but  you 
must  take  my  part.  Dear  soul,  when  she  reflects,  vshe  will 
forgive  me,  for  she  is  all  reason. 

^^  ^^  ^[^  i-j-*  *^  "^ 

"  Since  I  began  this,  the  Kent. -governor  of  Quebec  is  dead. 
It  is  a  place  of  £1600  a  year,  and  I  think  would  do  very  well 
for  Charles.  The  day  before  he  died  I  was  in  treaty  for  his 
lieut.-colonelcy  in  the  44th  regiment.  If  he  had  lived  two 
davs  longer,  I  should  have  had  it.  We  are  here  so  ignorant 
about  the  politics  in  England,  one  does  not  knov>'  how  to  try 
for  it.  In  case  the  ministry  are  changed,  Leinster  cannot 
with  conscience  ask  any  thing  ;  and,  if  he  goes  out,  I  certainly 


14  MEirOIRS    OF 

would  not  2*0  a2:aiiist  him  and  the  Duke  of  Richmond  for  all 
the  lieut.-colonelcies  in  the  world.  If  there  is  a  change,  he 
and  Charles  will  be  a  little  puzzled  ;  but  I  would  at  any  time 
rather  go  out  with  them  than  in  with  them." 

"  Montreal,  May  4th,  1789. 
"my  dearest  mother, 

"  I  have  been  here  a  week,  and  set  off  in  a  few  hours  to 
begin  my  long  journey.  The  weather  is  charming, — no  suow, 
every  thing  green  : — but  Emily  Montague  will  tell  you  all 
that  better  than  I  can.  Really,  after  our  long  winter,  we  do 
enjoy  spring.  Ten  days  ago,  I  set  out  from  Quebec  in  five 
feet  of  snow.  I  am  delighted  to  be  on  the  go  again.  I  shall 
see  Niagara  in  high  perfection.  I  am  in  good  health  and  in 
good  spirits.  I  heard  from  a  gentleman  here  about  you  all  : 
you  were  all  well,  thank  God  ;  but  I  have  not  heard  myself 
a  great  while,  though  I  v^'ish  to  hear.  I  believe  it  is  better 
not,  for  I  should  want  to  go  home,  and  not  see  all  I  intend  to 
do  : — at  present,  je  m^etourdis  la-dcssiis  ;  and  I  am  determined 
to  make  use  of  my  time.  One  of  your  letters  would  weaken 
me,  dear  mother  ;  and,  till  I  see  you,  the  less  I  think  of  you 
the  better.  When  once  I  get  home,  I  shall  stick  close  for  a 
great  while. 

"  I  have  nothing  new  to  tell  you,  for  at  Quebec  and  here  I 
have  done  nothino:  but  feast,  and  I  am  horriblv  tired  of  it : 
my  letters  from  up  the  country  will  be  pleasanter.  The 
Canadians  are  good  people, — very  like  the  French,  and  of 
course  I  like  them.  There  was  one  family  at  Quebec  very 
pleasant  and  very  good  to  me, — a  mother  and  two  pretty 
daughters.  Don't  be  afraid — I  was  not  in  love.  We  were 
very  sorry  to  part.  However,  it  did  not  last  long.  I  tell  it 
you,  because  it  was  the  only  kind  feel  I  have  had  for  a  woman 
since  I  left  England.     I  wish  it  had  lasted  a  little  longer. 

"  What  would  I  give  to  hear  a  pleasant  account  of  G  "^  *  ! 
but  I  despair — so  will  not  think  of  it.  I  suppose  Fred,  is 
married  by  this  time.  I  should  like  to  hear  how  you  have 
gone  on  with  the  dear,  dear  girls  in  London  ;  but  I  won't 
think  of  or  about  any  of  you.  Love  to  every  body.  God 
bless  you,  dearest,  dearest  mother — how  I  long  to  be  with 


LORD    ED'^ARD    FITZGERALD.  T5 

yoa  !  I  am  an  odd  fellow. — Good  l^ye. — I  won't  let  myself 
think  of  yon  again  till  I  am  in  the  Missisippi." 

"Fort  Erie,  June  1,  1789. 
"  DEAREST  MOTHER, 

"  I  am  just  come  from  the  Falls  of  Xiagara.  To  describe 
them  is  impossible.  I  stayed  three  days  admiring,  and  was 
absolutely  obliged  to  tear  myself  away  at  last.  As  I  said 
before,  to  describe  them  would  be  impossible  : — Homer  could 
not  in  writing,  nor  Claude  Lorraine  in  painting  :  your  own 
imagination  must  do  it.  The  immense  height  and  noise  of  the 
Falls,  the  spray  that  rises  to  the  clouds — in  short,  it  forms  all 
together  a  scene  that  is  well  worth  the  trouble  of  coming  from 
Europe  to  see.  Then,  the  greenness  and  tranquillity  of  every 
thing  about,  the  quiet  of  the  immense  forests  around,  com- 
pared with  the  violence  of  all  that  is  close  to  the  Falls, — but 
I  will  not  go  on,  for  I  should  never  end, 

>i<  ^  ;•;  ^  ^  ^ 

"  I  set  out  to-morrow  for  Detroit  :  I  go  with  one  of  the 
Indian  chiefs,  Joseph  Brant,  he  that  was  in  England.  We 
have  taken  very  much  to  one  another.  I  shall  entertain  you 
very  much  with  his  remarks  on  England,  and  the  Emjlish, 
while  he  was  there.  Instead  of  crossing  Lake  Erie  in  a  ship, 
I  go  in  canoes  up  and  down  rivers.  In  crossing  Lake  On- 
tario, I  was  as  sick  as  at  sea, — so  you  may  guess  I  prefer 
canoeing  ; — besides,  my  friend  Joseph  always  travels  with 
company  ;  and  we  shall  go  through  a  number  of  Indian  vil- 
lages. If  you  only  stop  an  hour,  they  have  a  dance  for  you. 
They  are  delightful  people  ;  the  ladies  charming,  and  with 
manners  that  I  like  very  much,  they  are  so  natural.  Not- 
withstanding the  life  they  lead,  which  would  make  most 
women  rough  and  masculine,  they  are  as  soft,  meek,  and 
modest  as  the  best  brought  up  girls  in  England.  At  the 
same  time,  they  are  coquettes  au  possible.  Conceive  the 
manners  of  Mimi  in  a  poor  squaw,  that  has  been  carrying 
packs  in  the  woods  all  her  life. 

"  I  must  make  haste  and  finish  my  letter,  for  I  am  just 
going  to  set  off.  I  shall  be  at  Miehilimackinack  in  nineteen 
days.  My  journey  then  will  be  soon  over,  for  from  that  I 
shall  soon  reach  the  Missisippi,  and  down  it  to  Xew  Orleans, 
and  then  to  my  dearest  mother  to  Frescati,  to  relate  all  my 


16  MEMOIRS    OF 

journey  in  the  little  book-room.  I  shall  then  be  happy. 
Give  my  love  to  all.  I  think  often  of  you  all  in  these  wild 
woods  : — they  are  better  than  rooms.  Ireland  and  England 
will  be  too  little  for  me  when  I  go  home.  If  I  could  carry 
my  dearest  mother  about  with  me,  I  should  be  completely 
happy  here." 

"  Detroit,  June  20. 
"  MY  DEAREST  MOTHER, 

"  It  is  SO  hot  I  can  hardly  hold  the  pen.  My  hand  trembles 
so,  you  will  be  hardly  able  to  read  my  letter.  My  journey 
quite  answered  my  expectations.  I  set  out  to-morrow  for 
Michilimaekinack,  and  then  down  the  Missisippi.  I  am  in 
rude  health.  As  soon  as  I  get  to  the  Missisippi  I  reckon  my 
journey  half  over.  I  can  say  no  more,  for  really  it  is  too  hot 
for  any  thing  but  lying  on  a  mat.  Entre  nmis,  I  am  in  a  lit- 
tle sorrow,  as  I  am  to  part  to-morrow  with  a  fellovv^-traveller 
who  has  been  very  pleasant  and  taken  great  care  of  me  : — les 
plus  courtes  folies  sont  les  Dmlleiires.  I  have  been  adopted  by 
one  of  the  Nations,  and  am  now  a  thorough  Indian." 

His  adoption  by  the  native  Indians,  which  he  here  men- 
tions, took  place  at  Detroit,  through  the  medium  of  the  Chief 
of  the  Six  Nations,  David  Hill,  by  whom  he  was  formally 
inducted  into  the  Bear  Tribe,  and  made  one  of  their  Chiefs. 
Tiie  document  by  which  this  wild  honour  was  conferred  upon 
him  has  been  preserved  among  his  papers,  and  is,  in  Indian 
and  English,  as  follows  : — 

''  David  Hill's  letter  to  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  Chief  of 
the  Bear  Tribe. 

^'TVag/igoiigh  Sen  non  Fryer 
Ne  nen  Seghj/rnge  ni  i 
Ye  Sayats  Eg/in  id  a  I 

Ethonayyere  David  Hill 

Karonghyontiie 

lyogh  Saghnontyon 

21  June,  1789. 

"  /,  David  Hill,    Chief  of  the.    Six  Xations,  girt  the  name 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  *l*l 

of  Eghnidal   to  my  friend   Lord   Edward  Fitzgerald,  for 
which  I  ho^e  he  will  remember  me  as  long  as  he  lives. 

"  The  name  belongs  to  the  Bear  TribeP 

"  Michilimackinack, 
July  9,  1789. 

"dearest  mother, 

"  I  know  you  will  be  a  little  angry  with  me  for  undertaking 
this  long  journey.  I  really  believe  that  had  I  thought  it 
would  have  taken  me  so  much  time  I  should  not  have  begun 
it  ;  but  as  I  have  got  so  far,  it  would  be  foolish  not  to  con- 
tinue and  finish  it  well.  I  have  now  but  one  month  more  of 
hard  work  to  gain  the  Missisippi,  and  then  I  shall  get  on 
easily.  However,  I  am  afraid  the  different  embarkations,  and 
the  chance  of  not  finding  shij^s  ready,  will  prevent  my  being 
in  England  till  February. 

"  What  vexes  me  most  is  that  you  will  be  uneasy  at  not  hear- 
ing from  me  during  that  time.  But  then  you  may  rest  assured, 
dearest  mother,  that  I  am  quite  well  all  the  time,  for  this 
going  about  keeps  me  in  perfect  health.  I  have  not  had  so 
much  as  a  fin2:er-ache  since  I  left  En^rland  ;  and  if  it  was  not 
for  my  absence  from  you,  I  should  be  perfectly  happy.  Even 
if  I  was  at  home,  being  with  you  would  be  my  only  comfort  ; 
for  though  I  force  myself  not  to  think  of  *  *  here,  and  go 
on  very  well,  yet  if  I  were  near  her,  I  should,  I  know,  get 
unhappy  again  ;  and  it  would  end  in  my  going  to  Germany 
or  Russia,  which  would  be  still  worse  than  this.  When  I  am 
not  happy,  I  must  either  be  soldiering  or  preparing  to  be  a 
soldier, — which  is  what  I  think  I  am  doing  in  this  journey, — 
for  stay  quiet,  I  believe,  I  cannot.  Why  did  you  give  me 
either  such  a  head  or  such  a  heart  !  I  don't  know  which  it 
is  ;  but, — dearest  mother,  once  I  get  home,  you  shall  do  what 
you  please  with  me,  and  chain  me  down  to  Frescati, 

"  I  long  to  be  set  a-going  again, — it  is  the  only  chance  I 
have.  I  set  out  to-morrow.  1  have  got  a  canoe,  with  five 
men, — every  thing  is  laid  in  : — I  am  ol)liged  to  have  one  to 
myself,  to  carry  a  few  presents  for  the  Ind.ian  villages  I  pass 
through.  Except  Indian  corn  and  grease,  we  depend  entirely 
on  chance  for  everv  thinff  else.  You  cannot  conceive  how 
pleasant  this  way  of  travelling  is  :  it  is  a  hunting  or  shooting 


*IS  MEMOIRS    OF 

party  the  whole  way.  I  find  I  can  live  very  well  on  Indian 
corn  and  grease  : — it  sounds  bad,  but  it  is  not  so  :  I  eat  noth- 
ing else  for  four  days  comins;  here.  Few  people  know  how 
little  is  necessary  to  live.  What  is  called  and  thought  hard- 
ship is  nothing  :  one  unhappy  feeling  is  worse  than  a  thousand 
years  of  it. 

"  The  Canadian  engages  here  live  on  nothing  but  two  hand- 
fuls  of  corn  and  an  ounce  of  grease  per  day,  and  work  and 
sing  the  whole  day.  It  is  very  pleasant  to  travel  with  them. 
They  sing  all  day,  and  keep  time  with  their  paddles  :  their 
lively,  gay,  sans  souci  French  blood  never  leaves  them  :  they 
are  the  same  in  America  as  in  France.  This  next  part  of  the 
journey  will  be,  I  think,  the  most  interesting  and  agreeable  I 
have  had  yet,  as  the  people  I  am  going  among  live  more  in 
their  own  way,  and  have  less  connexion  with  Europeans.  It 
will  give  a  long  story  for  Black  Rock." 

We  have  seen  how  sanguinely,  throughout  the  greater  part 
of  his  journey,  he  still  cherished  the  thought  that,  even  yet, 
the  fond  prayer  of  his  heart  might  be  granted,  and  the  young 
person  he  so  tenderly  loved  become  his  own.  But  this  dream 
was,  unfortunatelv,  soon  to  have  an  end.  At  the  be^'inning 
of  December,  having  descended  the  Missisippi,  he  arrived  at 
ISQW  Orleans.  It  had  been  his  wish  to  extend  his  journey 
still  further,  and  pay  a  visit  to  the  Silver  Mines  of  Spanish 
America  ;  but,  on  applying  to  the  proper  authorities  for  per- 
mission, it  was,  as  we  learn  from  his  own  letters,,  refused  to 
him.  His  friends  at  home,  indeed,  had  heard  with  consider- 
able apprehension  of  his  purposed  visit  to  the  Mines  ;  as,  in 
the  event  of  a  war,  which  seemed  now  inevitable,  between 
England  and  Spain,  such  a  journey  would  be  attended  with 
embarrassment,  if  not  dano-er.  The  refusal,  however,  of  the 
Mexican  governor  to  give  him  permission  put  a  stop  to  his 
design  ;  and  he  was  now,  therefore,  on  the  wing  for  his  be- 
loved home,  anticipating  all  the  welcome  and  the  happiness 
which  his  own  affection,  he  could  not  but  feel,  deserved. 

It  was  at  this  very  moment, — while  so  fondly  persuading 
himself  that  the  fair  object  of  his  passion  might,  one  day,  be 
his  own, — he  received  intelligence  that,  in  the  month  of  April 
preceding,  she  had  become  the  wife  of  another.  Such  a  shock, 
to  a  heart  buoyant  as  his,  came  but  the  heavier  for  the  self- 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  79 

illusion  he  had  been  indulging  ;  and,  had  it  not  been  for  his 
mother,  whose  existence,  he  knew,  was  locked  up  in  his,  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  he  would  ever  again  have  returned 
to  Eii'dand, 

The  two  following  letters  to  his  brother  Lord  Robert  (of 
which  I  find  copies  among  the  papers  in  my  possession)  were 
the  last  that  he  now  wrote  from  America  ;  and  the  subdned  tone 
in  which  he  here  speaks  on  the  subject  nearest  his  heart,  only 
shows  how  deep  and  strong  must  have  been  the  feeling  that 
required  such  an  effort  of  self-control  in  the  expression  of  it. 

"Nueva  Orleans,  7  Dec,  1789. 
"  QUERIDO  ROBERTO, 

"  Te  maravillarai  mucho  al  recibir  una  carta  mia,  su  fecha 
en  esta  plaza.  La  dirixo  por  el  Caho  Frances,  y  yo  pienso 
salir  de  aqui  alfin  de  Euero  o  principio  de  Febrero  en  un  barco 
que  saldra  directamente  para  Londres.  Por  el  Corrco  de  la, 
Eiiropa  vio  que  eres  verdaderamente  Fhnijpo-Boh.  Te  felicito, 
y  me  allegro  por  la  satisfaccion  que  couosco  te  causa.  Las 
ultimas  tuyas  que  he  recebido  son  confechas  en  Abril.  Ala 
verdad  no  me  dieron  las  noticias  mas  agradables  ;  pero  me 
conforme  con  llevar  con  paciencia  las  vicitudes  humanas,  pen- 
sando  en  esto  como  uno  verdaclero  Philosopho,  y  ya  no  pienso 
mas  en  ellas  ;  porque  mi  feliz  temperamento  no  me  permitte 
pensar  mucho  tiempo  en  cosas  desagradables. 

"  Di  a  nuestra  amada  madre  que  me  mantengo  siempre 
bueno,  y  allegre,  en  excepcion  de  aquellos  ratos  (que  son  fre- 
quentes)  que  se  me  presenta  a  la  memoria.  Di  la  que  me  he 
applicado  al  estudio  de  la  lingua  Espanola,  a  fin  de  ahorrarme 
de  alguno  modo  la  innutil  pena  de  pensar  continuamente  in  un 
objeto  cuya  vesta  separa  tanta  distancia  y  agua  y  tierra  : 
alguua  vezes  es  mas  forte  que  yo,  y  entonces  so  bueno  para 
nada. 

"  Celebro  mucho  saber  el  casamiento  de  Charlotte  :  y  es- 
pero  que  estara  de  vuelta  antes  que  yo  Uegue.  Pudiera  escri- 
birte  y  decirte  mas,  pero  como  insenue  arriba,  quando  pienso 
en  mi  tierra  y  en  alguno  de  vos  otros,  me  lleno  de  melancolia, 
y  asi  concliure  mi  carta. 

"  Manifesta  a  todos  mi  carinio,  sin  olvidar  a  mi  amado 
Henrico,  se  que  esta  enojado  conmigo  porque  estoy  ausente 
tauto  tiempo.     Dentro  quatro  meses  espero  dar  un  abrazo  a 


80  MEMOIRS    OF 

todos,      Kecelo   que  estarais  tu  abseute  :   pero  nosera  poi 
mucho  shi  verte. 

"  Adios,  querido  Kobcrto  :  soy  todo  a  tu, 

"  E.  Fitzgerald. 

"  Te  escribiera  mucho  sobre  c-sta  pais,  pero  una  carta  Es- 
pagnol  es  una  obra  deficil  y  niuy  trabasera  para  mi." 

TRANSLATION. 

"Xew  Orleans,  December  Tth,  1789. 
"  DEAR  ROBERT, 

"  You  will  be  surprised  at  receiving  a  letter  from  me  at 
this  place.  I  send  it  by  the  Cajp  Frangois,  and  expect  to 
embark  from  hence  myself  about  the  end  of  January,  or  in 
the  beginning  of  February  next,  on  board  a  vessel  which  is 
bound  directly  to  London.  By  the  Courier  de  V Europe,  I  see 
that  you  are  now  really  Flenlpo-Boh.  I  congratulate  you,  and 
rejoice  in  the  satisfaction  I  know  that  gives  you.  Your  last 
letters  which  I  have  received  were  written  in  April.  In  truth 
they  did  not  bring  me  the  most  agreeable  news,  but  I  submit 
witii  patience  to  all  human  vicissitudes. 

"  Tell  our  much-loved  mother  that  I  am  very  well,  and  in 
good  spirits,  excepting  when  those  crosses  which  are  frequent 
with  me  present  themselves  to  my  thoughts.  Tell  her  that  I 
have  applied  to  the  Spanish  language,  with  a  view  to  divert 
my  mind  in  some  way  or  other  from  the  unnecessary  pain  of 
thinking  constantly  of  an  object,  from  the  sight  of  whom  so 
great  a  distance  both  by  sea  and  land  divides  me.  The  least 
reflection  overcomes  me,  and.  then  I  am  good  for  nothing. 

"  I  rejoice  to  hear  of  Charlotte's  marriage,  and  hope  she 
may  be  returned  before  I  arrive.  I  could  write  to  you  and 
tell  you  more  ;  but,  as  it  constantly  happens,  when  I  think  of 
my  own  country  and  of  any  of  you,  I  fill  with  melancholy,  and 
must  tlicrefore  conclude  my  letter.  Present  my  love  to  all, 
without  forgetting  my  dear  Henry,  who  is  angry  with  me  for 
remaining  so  long  absent.  Within  four  months  time  I  hope 
to  embrace  you  all.  I  grieve  that  you  should  be  absent,  but 
it  shall  not  l3e  long  before  I  shall  see  you  likewise. 

"  Adieu,  dear  Robert :  I  am  altogether  yours,      "  E.  F. 

"  I  should  have  written  much  to  you  about  this  country, 
but  a  letter  in  Spanish  is  a  difficult  and  laborious  undertaking 
for  me." 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  ^81 

"  Xew  Orleans,  Dec.  26th,  1789. 
''*  MY  DEAREST  BOB, 

"  I  wrote  to  you  a  few  da3's  ago  iu  Spanish,  and  sent  my 
letter  by  the  Havannah  to  Cadiz,  from  wlience  it  will  be  for- 
warded to  you  by  Mr.  Duff,  our  consul  there.  This  goes  by 
'Marseilles,  and  the  longer  will  be  a  surer  method  of  your 
hearing.  I  have  not  been  able  to  write  home  from  hence,  so 
the  first  tidings  they  will  get  will  be  from  you.  I  have  been 
occupying  myself  here  learning  Spanish,  in  hopes  of  getting 
leave  to  go  to  the  Havannah  or  Mexico  ;  but  as  the  governor 
here  could  not  give  leave  himself,  he  wrote  to  ask  it  for  me 
and  was  refused,  so  that  I  must  keep  my  Spanish  for  another 
opportunity, 

"  You  may  guess  my  impatience  to  get  home.  I  set  off  in 
six  weeks  in  a  ship  bound  for  London,  so  that  very  likely  I 
may  be  home  before  you  receive  this,  I  have  seen  some  news- 
papers which  mention  you  as  being  at  Paris.  My  last  letters 
were  in  May.  I  bore  all  the  account  of  G  *  *  tolerably 
well.  I  must  say  with  Cardenio,  '  Lo  que  ha  Ihantado  siis 
hermosura,  han  derrihada  siis  ohras.  Por  elli  enfendi  que  era 
angel,  y  por  ellas  conozco  que  era  muger.  Quede  ella  en  paz, 
el  causado  de  mi  guerra,  y  haga  el  Cielo,  que  ella  no  quede 
arrepentida  de  lo  que  ha  hechoj  But  this  is  enough  on  this 
disagreealjle  subject. 

"  I  am  now  quite  stout,  and  think  of  nothing  but  being  a 
good  soldier.  To  be  sure,  if  it  was  not  for  dearest  mother, 
I  believe  I  should  not  return  to  England  for  some  time,  God, 
how  happy  I  shall  be  to  see  you  all  !  Dearest  Robert,  I  can- 
not express  how  I  love  you  all.  I  know  what  I  say  appears 
odd,  but  it  is  impossible  to  describe  the  sort  of  feeling  I  have. 

"  I  should  like  to  give  you  an  account  of  my  voyage,  but  it 
would  be  too  long  :  it  has  done  me  a  great  deal  of  good.  I 
have  seen  human  nature  under  almost  all  its  forms.  Every 
where  it  is  the  same,  but  the  wilder  it  is  the  more  virtuous. 
These,  however,  will  be  fine  arguments  for  us  two,  when  we 
meet,  to  talk  on.  Give  my  love  to  all,  and  do  not  forget 
dear  M®  de  *  ^,  who,  upon  cool  consideration,  is  as  charming 
a  creature  as  is  in  the  world  :  in  short,  she  is  sincere,  vv'hich  is 
a  C|uality  rather  rare. 

"  The  man  that  sends  you  this  has  a  brother  here,  who  has 
been  all  goodness  to  me  :  he  has  begged  me  to  mention  his 


82  MEMOIRS    OF 

name  to  you  :  if  ever  you  can  be  civil  to  him,  do  be  so, 
(thougli  I  think  it  will  never  come  in  your  way).  His  name 
is  Segond  Fils,  negociant  a  Marseilles.  I  dare  say  he  will 
write  you  a  letter  with  this. 

"  Good  bye,  dearest,  dearest  Bob. 

"  Yours, 
"E.  F. 
"  I  really  am  afraid  to  write  to  mother,  1  have  so  much  to 
say." 

On  his  arrival  in  London  he  was,  by  the  merest  accident, 
spared  the  pain  of  a  scene  which  could  not  fail  to  have  been 
distressing  to  others  as  well  as  himself.  Impatient,  as  may  be 
supposed,  to  see  his  mother,  who  was  then  residing  in  London, 
he  hastened  instantly  to  her  house,  and  arrived  there  just  as  a 
large  party,  among  whom  were  the  young  bride  *  of  the  pre- 
ceding April  and  her  lord,  had  seated  themselves  to  dinner. 
In  a  second  or  two,  the  unexpected  visitor  would  have  been 
among  them,  had  not  General  Fox,  who  was  one  of  the 
guests,  and  recognized  Lord  Edward's  voice,  hastened  out  to 
stop  him,  and  thus  prevented  an  encounter  which  would  have 
been  embarrassing  to  all  parties. 

In  taking  leave  of  this  interesting  passage  of  his  lordship's 
short  life,  it  is  not  without  some  pain  that  the  reflection  sug- 
gests itself,  how  ditierent  might  have  been  his  doom,  both  in 
life  and  death,  had  this  suit,  in  which  he  so  sanguinely  perse- 
vered, been  successful  ;  nor  can  I  help  adding,  that  the  exem- 
plary domestic  virtues,  which  have,  through  life,  distinguished 
the  noble  lady  he  thus  loved,  while  they  exalt  our  opinion  of 
the  man  who  could,  thus  early,  appreciate  such  excellence, 
but  deepen  ten-fold  our  sympathy  with  the  pain  he  must  have 
felt  in  losing  her. 

In  active  professional  employment  would  now  have  been  his 
only  safeguard,  both  against  vain  regrets  for  the  past,  and  too 
sanguine  aspirations  after  the  future  ;  and  there  was  a  pros- 
pect, immediately  on  his  return  to  England,  of  employment, 
such  as  he  himself  could  have  most  wished,  being  found  for 
him.  The  threatening  armaments  of  Spain  at  this  moment 
called  for  corresponding  efforts  on  the  part  of  Great  Britain  ; 

*  Supposed  to  be  the  daughter  of  Lord  Holland. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  83 

and,  among  other  measures  of  offence,  an  expedition  against 
Cadiz  was  contemplated.  One  of  Lord  Edward's  first  visits, 
on  his  arrival,  was  to  his  uncle,  the  Dake  of  Richmond,  and 
the  information  which  it  had  been  in  his  power  to  collect, 
respecting  the  state  of  the  Spanish  colonies  in  America,  v/as, 
of  course,  listened  to  by  the  minister  with  peculiar  interest. 
Finding,  also,  that  his  nephew,  during  the  journey  he  took 
through  Spain,  in  1788,  had  turned  his  time  to  account,  and, 
besides  those  general  military  observations  which  his  "  tech- 
nical eye"  as  a  soldier  enabled  him  to  make,  had  taken  an 
opportunity,  while  at  Cadiz,  of  drawing  plans  of  the  fortifica- 
tions of  that  city,  his  grace  invited  him  to  meet  Mr.  Pitt  and 
Mr.  Dundas  that  evening  ;  and  these  ministers,  having  them- 
selves questioned  the  young  officer  on  the  same  subjects,  offered 
immediately,  as  I  have  been  informed,  to  promote  him  by 
brevet,  and  give  him  the  command  of  the  expedition  intended 
against  Cadiz.  This  Lord  Edward  readily  accepted,  and  the 
duke,  at  parting,  told  him  that  he  should,  on  the  following 
day,  report  what  had  been  agreed  upon  to  the  king,  and 
hoped  he  might  also  add,  that  his  nephew  was  no  longer 
in  opposition.  Free,  as  he  then  supposed  himself,  from  the 
responsibility  which  a  seat  in  parliament  imposed.  Lord  Ed- 
ward answered  that  it  was  his  determination  for  the  future  to 
devote  himself  exclusively  to  his  profession  ;  and  he  could 
therefore,  without  any  difficulty,  promise  not  to  appear  in 
opposition  to  the  government. 

On  seeing  his  mother,  however,  the  following  day,  his  lord- 
ship was,  for  the  first  time,  informed  that,  notwithstanding 
her  grace's  earnest  remonstrances,  his  brother,  the  Duke  of 
Leinster,  had,  before  his  arrival,  returned  him  lor  the  county 
of  Kildare.  Finding  his  position  thus  altered,  he  lost  no  time 
in  apprizing  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  who,  on  learning  the  new 
views  of  the  subject  which  this  discovery  had  occasioned, 
expressed  strong  displeasure  against  his  nephew,  and  accused 
him  of  breaking  his  word  with  the  king  ;  adding,  at  the  same 
time,  that  neither  this  proffered  appointment,  nor  any  other 
favour  from  ministers  was  to  be  expected  by  him,  if  he  did 
not  detach  himself  from  the  opposition  and  give  his  vote  to 
government.  This  Lord  Edward,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to 
say,  promptly  refused,  and  the  two  relatives  parted,  with  a 
degree  of  anger  on   the   part  of  the   uncle,  which  is  sua- 


8^  MEMOIRS    OF 

pected,  but,  I  should  thiuk,  unjustly,  to  have  had  some 
share  m  the  harsh  measure  taken  subsequently,  of  dismissing 
Lord  Edward,  without  even  the  forms  of  inquiry,  from  the 
army. 

Thus  disappointed  of  an  employment  which  would  have 
been  so  gratifying-  at  once  to  his  ambition  and  his  tastes,  he 
had  now  no  other  resources  for  the  diversion  of  his  thoudits 
than  such  as  his  parliamentary  duties  in  Ireland,  and  the 
society  of  a  few  favourite  friends  in  London  afforded  him. 
This  want  of  any  absorbing  pursuits  or  interests  of  his  own 
left  him  free  to  extend  his  sympathies  to  the  concerns  of 
others  ;  and,  being  neither  pledged  to  a  certain  set  of  opinions 
by  virtue  of  any  office,  nor  under  that  fear  of  change  which 
high  station  and  wealth  engender,  he  could  now  give  way 
without  reserve  to  his  judgment  and  feelings,  and  take  part 
loith  the  oppressed  against  the  oppressor  to  the  full  length 
that  his  own  natural  sense  of  justice  and  benevolence  dic- 
tated. 

Left  thus  open  to  the  influence  of  all  that  was  passing 
around  him,  it  may  be  conceived  that  the  great  events  now  in 
progress  in  France  could  have  appealed  to  few  hearts  more 
thoroughly  prepared,  both  by  nature  and  position,  to  go  along 
with  their  movement.  In  the  society,  too,  which  he  now 
chiefly  cultivated, — that  of  Mr.  Fox,  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  their 
many  distinguished  friends, — he  found  those  political  princi- 
ples, to  which  he  now,  for  the  first  time,  gave  any  serious 
attention,  recommended  at  once  to  his  reason  and  imagination 
by  all  the  splendid  sanctions  with  which  genius,  wit,  eloquence, 
and  the  most  refined  good-fellowship  could  invest  them. 
i>either  was  it  to  be  expected,  while  thus  imbibing  the  full 
spirit  of  the  new  doctrines,  that  he  would  attend  much  to 
those  constitutional  guards  and  conditions  with  which  tiie 
Whig  patriots,  at  that  time,  fenced  round  even  their  boldest 
opinions, — partly  from  a  long-transmitted  reverence  for  the 
forms  of  the  constitution,  and  partly,  also,  from  a  prospective 
view  to  their  own  attainment  of  power,  and  to  the  great 
inconvenience  of  being  encumbered,  on  entering  into  office,  by 
opinions  which  it  might  not  only  be  their  interest,  but  their 
dutv,  to  retract. 

From  both  these  wholesome  restraints,  on  political  ardour, 
Lord  Edward  was  free  ;  having  derived,  it  may  be  supposed, 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  85 

from  his  Irish  education  in  politics  but  a  small  portion  of 
respect  for  the  English  constitution,  and  being  by  nature  too 
little  selfish,  even  had  he  any  ulterior  interests,  to  let  a  thought 
of  them  stand  in  the  way  of  the  present  generous  impulse. 
At  a  later  period,  indeed,  it  is  well  known  that  even  Mr.  Fox 
himself,  impatient  at  the  hopelessness  of  all  his  efforts  to  rid 
England,  by  any  ordinary  means,  of  a  despotism  which  aristo- 
cratic alarm  had  brought  upon  her,  found  himself  driven,  in 
his  despair  of  Reform,  so  near  that  edge  where  Revolution 
begins,  that  had  there  existed,  at  that  time,  in  England  any 
thing  Uke  the  same  prevalent  sympathy  with  the  new  doctrines 
of  democracy  as  responded  throughout  Ireland,  there  is  no 
saying  how  far  short  of  the  daring  aims  of  Lord  Edward  even 
this  great  constitutional  Whig  leader  might,  in  the  warmth  of 
his  generous  zeal,  have  ventured. 

These  remarks,  however,  as  regards  both  Mr.  Fox  and  Lord 
Edward,  apply  to  a  later  period,  by  some  years,  than  that  at 
which  we  are  now  arrived, — the  French  revolution  not  having 
yet  fully  developed  either  its  might  or  its  mischief,  nor  diffus- 
ed that  feverish  excitement  among  the  middle  and  lower  classes 
of  the  community  which  rendered  them  objects  of  alarm  and, 
at  last,  coercion  with  the  higher.  It  was  not,  indeed,  till  Lord 
Edward's  visit  to  France  in  1792  that  he  appears  to  have  es- 
poused zealously  and  decidedly  those  republican  principles  upon 
which,  during  the  short  remainder  of  his  life,  he  acted  with 
but  a  too  fearless  consistency.  The  interval  previous  to  that 
time  he  passed  chiefly  under  the  same  roof  with  his  mother 
and  sisters  ;  and  it  is  for  this  reason  that  there  remain  to  us 
but  few  letters  througli  which,  for  these  two  years,  we  are  able 
to  track  the  details  of  his  life. 

At  the  beginning  of  1791  we  find  him  attending  the  House 
of  Commons  in  Dublin,  but  most  heartily  weary  of  the  society 
he  was  living  with,  and  wishino-  himself  in  London,  whither 
all  his  desires  now  called  him, — not  only  from  the  delight  he 
always  felt  in  the  converse  of  his  own  family,  but  from  certain 
other  less  legitimate  attractions  on  which  it  is  not  necessary 
to  dwell,  but  to  which  his  extreme  readiness  to  love,  and  his 
power  of  making  himself  beloved  in  return,  rendered  him  con- 
stantly liable.  Seldom,  indeed,  has  any  one  possessed,  to  such 
an  engaging  degree,  that  combination  of  manly  ardour  with 
gentleness  whicli  is  so  vrinning  to  most  female  minds. 


86  MEMOIRS  or 

"  Dublin,"  he  says,  in  one  of  his  letters  at  this  time,  "  has 
been  very  lively  this  last  week,  and  promises  as  much  for  the 
next  ;  but  I  think  it  is  all  the  same  thing, — La  D  "^  *  ,  La 
S  *  *  ,  and  a  few  young  competitors  for  their  j)laces.  I  have 
been  a  great  deal  with  these  two.  They  want  to  console  me 
for  London  ;  but  it  won't  do,  though  I  own  they  are  very 
pleasant.  Henry  and  I  have  been  living  at  Leinster  House 
quite  alone.  We  generally  ride  to  Black  Rock. — I  hate  going 
by  the  gate.  I  won't  say  any  thing  of  it  for  fear  of  tempting 
you,  but  the  passage  is  in  high  beauty.  I  meant  to  have  gone 
and  slept  there  to-night,  but  was  kept  too  late  at  the  levy,  so 
must  \)\xt  it  off  to  another  time.  I  have  dined  by  myself,  and 
intended  giving  up  the  evening  to  writing  to  you,  but  have 
had  such  a  pressing  invitation  from  Mrs.  "*'  *  to  sup  that  I 
cannot  refuse,  I  hope  it  is  to  make  up  a  quarrel  which  she 
began  the  other  night,  because  I  said  I  thought  she  was  cold. 
I  find  it  is  the  worst  thiuu;  one  can  sav  of  a  Dublin  woman  : — 
you  cannot  conceive  what  an  aifront  it  is  reckoned." 

At  the  latter  end  of  1792,  that  momentous  crisis,  when 
France,  standing  forth  on  the  ruins  of  her  monarchy,  pro- 
claimed herself  a  Republic,  and  hurled  fierce  defiance  against 
the  thrones  of  the  world, — Lord  Edward,  unwilling  to  lose 
such  a  spectacle  of  moral  and  political  excitement,  hastened 
over  to  Paris,  without  communicatino:  his  intentions  even  to 
the  duchess,  who  had,  but  a  short  time  previously  received 
from  him  the  followin":  leiter  : — • 


c 


"dearest  mother. 


"London,  October,  1792. 


"  I  know  you  will  be  glad  to  make  out,  through  mistakes, 
words  left  out,  false  spelling,  bad  English,  &c.  that  I  am  al- 
most quite  well.  I  have  been  in  town  since  Saturday.  I  re- 
turn to  Boyle  Farm  again  to-morrow.  I  spent  a  delightful 
w^eek.  Dear  Harry,  as  usual,  charming  ; — he  is  perfect.  I 
dined  with  Charles  Fox,  Saturday,  on  coming  to  town  ;— he 
was  quite  right  about  all  the  good  French  news.  Is  it  not 
delightful  ?  It  is  really  shameful  to  see  how  much  it  has 
affected  all  our  aristocrats.  I  think  one  may  fairly  say  the 
Duke  of  Brunswick  and  his  Germans  are  bedeviled.  The  joke, 
in  the  Argus  of  the  invincible  cavalry  of  Prussia  being  totally 
mt  up  by  their  infantry,  is  not  a  bad  one. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  St 

"  I  begin  to  feel  a  little  for  the  emigrants,  though  I  am 
sure  they  deserve  none  ;  but  they  have  so  completely  ruined 
their  cause  that  I  believe  they  will  lose  every  thing.  "  Some,  I 
am  sure,  thought  they  were  acting  right  and  honouraUji ;  and 
these,  though  one  is  surprised  and  angry  at  their  errors,  one 
cannot  help  pitying,  How  glad  I  am  *  *  has  remained  in 
France.  Poor  Antoine,  I  cannot  say  how  I  feel  for  him,  for 
he  certainly  thought  he  was  doing  right." 

From  the  letter  that  soon  after  followed  it  will  be  seen  that 
had  liis  Lordship  been  a  more  backward  pupil  in  the  new  doc- 
trines of  democracy  than,  unluckily  for  himself,  he  proved  to 
be,  it  would  not  have  been  for  want  of  an  able  and  daring 
preceptor. 

"  Paris,  Tuesday,  October  80th. 
"  1st  Year  of  the  RepubHc,  1792. 


"dearest  mother, 


"  I  know  you  will  be  surprised  to  hear  from  me  here, — do 
not  be  uneasy.  This  town  is  as  quiet  as  possible,  and  for  me 
a  most  interesting  scene.  I  would  not  have  missed  seeing  it 
at  this  period  for  any  thing.  I  stopped  a  day  at  Boulogne 
with  the  dear  *  *  ,  and  you  may  guess  how  glad  I  was  to'see 
her.  I  told  her  not  to  tell  you  I  was  here,  as" I  did  not  intend 
to  let  you  know  it  ;  but  upon  consideration,  I  think  it  better 
you  should.     I  arrived  last  Friday. 

"  I  lodge  with  my  friend  Paine, — we  breakfast,  dine,  and 
sup  together.  The  more  I  see  of  his  interior,  the  more  I  like 
and  respect  him.  I  cannot  express  how  kind  he  is  to  me  ; 
there  is  a  simplicity  of  manner,  a  goodness  of  heart,  and  a 
strength  of  mind  in  him,  that  I  never  knew  a  man  before  pos- 
sess. I  pass  my  time  very  pleasantly,  read,  Avalk,  and  go 
quietly  to  the  play.  I  have  not  been  to  see  any  one,  nor  shall 
not.  I  often  want  you,  dearest  mother,  but  I  should  not  have 
been  able  to  bear  Tunbridge  for  any  time.  The  present  scene 
occupies  my  thoughts  a  great  deal,  and  dissipates  unpleasant 
feelings  very  much. 

"  Give  my  love  to  Ogilvie  and  the  girls.  I  think  he  would 
be  much  entertained  and  interested  if  he  was  here.  I  can 
compare  it  to  nothing  but  Pvome  in  its  days  of  conquest  : — 
the  energj'  of  the  people  is  beyond  belief.     There  is  no  news 


88  MEMOIRS    OF 

that  the  Mornmg  Chronicle  does  not  tell  you,  so  I  won't  re- 
peat. I  go  a  great  deal  to  the  Assembly  ; — they  improve 
much  in  speaking. 

"  God  bless  you,  dearest  mother.     Believe  me 

"  Your  affectionate,  &c. 
"  Let   me   know   if  I   can   do   any   thing   for   you   here. 
Direct — 

Le  citoycn  Edouard  Fitzgerald, 
Hotel  de  White,  aw  Passage  des  Pet  its, 
jp?'es  dw  Palais  Koyal." 

From  a  disposition  so  ardent  and  fearless,  discretion  was 
the  last  virtue  to  be  expected  ;  and  his  friends,  therefore, 
whatever  alarm  or  regret  it  might  cause  them,  could  hardly 
have  felt  much  surprise  when  the  announcement  that  follows 
made  its  appearance  in  the  papers  of  Paris  and  London  : 

Paris,  Nov.  lOtli. 

"  Yesterday  the  English  arrived  in  Paris  assembled  at 
White's  Hotel,  to  celebrate  the  triumph  of  victories  gained 
over  their  late  invaders  by  the  armies  of  France.  Though 
the  festival  was  intended  to  be  purely  British,  the  meeting  was 
attended  by  citizens  of  various  countries,  by  deputies  of  the 
Convention,  by  generals,  and  other  officers  of  the  armies  then 
stationed  or  visiting  Paris, — J,  H.  Stone  in  the  chair. 

"  Among  the  toasts  were,  '  The  armies  of  France  :  may 
the  example  of  its  citizen  soldiers  be  followed  by  all  enslaved 
countries,  till  tyrants  and  tyranny  be  extinct  :' 

"  An  address  proposed  to  the  National  Convention. — Among 
several  toasts  proposed  by  the  citizens,  Sir  R.  Smith  and  Lord 
E.  Fitzgerald,  was  the  following  :  '  May  the  patriotic  airs  of 
the  German  Legion  (Ca  Ira,  the  Carmagnole,  Marseillaise 
March,  &c.)  soon  ])ecome  the  favourite  music  of  every  army, 
and  may  the  soldier  and  the  citizen  join  in  the  chorus.' 

"  General  Dillon  proposed  '  The  people  of  Ireland  ;  and 
may  government  profit  by  the  example  of  France,  and  Reform 
prevent  Revolution.' 

"  Sir  Robert  Smith  and  Lord  E.  Fitzgerald  renounced  their 
titles  ;  and  a  toast  proposed  by  the  former  was  drank  : — '  The 
speedy  abolition  of  all  hereditary  titles  and  feudal  distinctions.' " 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  89 

"Paris,  1792. 
"  DEAREST    MOTHER, 

'-^  I  got  your  dear  letter  yesterday.  You  were  quite  right 
about  my  joy  at  the  taking  of  Mons,  and  the  success  of  the 
battle  of  Jemappe.  I  was  in  the  house  when  the  news  came, 
and  saw  Baptiste  received  :  it  was  an  animating  scene, — as 
indeed  every  thing  that  passes  here  now  is.  You  who  know 
the  French  mav  conceive  it.  I  am  deHorhted  with  the  manner 
they  feel  their  success  :  no  foolish  boasting  or  arrogance  at 
it  ; — ^but  imputing  all  to  the  greatness  and  goodness  of  their 
cause,  and  seeming  to  rejoice  more  on  account  of  its  effects 
on  Europe  in  general  than  for  their  own  individual  glory. 
This,  indeed,  is  the  turn  every  idea  here  seems  to  take  :  all 
their  pamphlets,  all  their  pieces,  all  their  songs,  extol  their 
achievements  but  as  the  effect  of  the  principle  they  are  con- 
tending for,  and  rejoice  at  their  success  as  the  triumph  of 
humanity.  All  the  defeats  of  their  enemies  they  impute  to 
their  disgust  at  the  cause  for  which  they  fight.  In  the  coffee- 
houses and  play-houses,  every  man  calls  the  other  camarade, 
frere,  and  with  a  stranger  immediately  begins,  *  Ah  !  nous 
sommes  tous  freres,  toug  horames,  nos  victoires  sont  pour  vous, 
pour  tout  le  monde  ;'  and  the  same  sentiments  are  always 
received  with  peals  of  applause.  In  short,  all  the  good  enthu- 
siastic French  sentiments  seem  to  come  out ;  while,  to  all 
appearance,  one  would  say,  they  had  lost  all  their  bad.  The 
town  is  quiet,  and  to  judge  from  the  theatres  and  public  walks, 
very  full.  The  great  difference  seems  in  the  few  carriages, 
and  the  dress,  which  is  very  plain. 

"  I  am  glad  Ogiivie  warms  up  a  little.  I  knew  he  would. 
I  am  sure  you  enjoy  the  success,  for  you  and  I  always  had  a 
proper  liking  for  the  true  French  character.  Dear  "^  *  is 
here.  I  see  a  great  deal  of  her  ;  she  is  as  pleasant  as  ever  ; 
— that  same  good  heart  and  delightful  manner.  How  she 
dotes  on  you  !  but  what  I  admire  is  the  manner  she  bears  the 
change  of  circumstances, — with  a  good  sense  and  philosophy 
bej'ond  description,  even  as  you  yourself  would  do.  From  her 
i£3000  she  has  got  £1000  a  year,  and  not  quite  that.  She 
goes  in  her  hackney  coach,  or  walks  to  her  friends  and  her 
soirees,  crottee  jitsqii'au  cou,  with  the  same  cheerfulness  as 
ever  ;  and  is  just  the  same,  with  her  one  servant  and  maid, 
and  little  dinner  of  soup  and  bouillie,  as  when  M®.  la  Mar- 


90  MEMOIRS    OF 

quise,  with  two  granrh  lac.quais.  Indeed,  if  it  were  not  for 
her  children,  I  ratlier  think  she  Ukes  it  better.  You  would 
admh'e  her  were  you  to  see  her,  and  would  understand  all  her 
feeling's. 

"  Ted  Og'ilvie  I  shall  leave  this  next  week,  and  settle  my 
majority,  it"  I  am  not  scratched  out  of  the  army.  General 
E^'alite  is  the  son  of  Orleans.  I  dine  to-day  with  Madame 
S.liery.  God  bless  you,  dearest  mother.  I  am  obliged  to 
leave  you.     Love  to  the  girls. 

"  I  long  to  see  you,  and  shall  be  with  you  the  beginning  of 
the  v/eek  after  next.     I  cannot  be  long  from  you. 

"  Yours, 

"E.  F. 

"  In  the  midst  of  ray  patriotism  and  projects,  you  are 
always  the  first  thing  in  my  heart,  and  ever  must  be,  my  dear, 
dear  mother." 

The  simple  sentence  in  this  letter,  "  I  dine  to-day  with 
Madame  de  Slllery,"  is  far  more  pregnant  with  events  and 
feelings  interesting  to  the  writer  than  from  the  short  and  care- 
less manner  in  which  it  is  here  introduced  could  be  suspected. 
Madame  de  Sillery  (the  celebrated  Comtesse  de  Genlis)  had, 
but  a  day  or  two  before  the  date  of  this  letter,  returned  from 
!Kngland,  where,  accompanied  by  her  pupil  Mademoiselle  d'- 
'Orleans,  and  her  adopted  daughter  Pamela,*  she  had  been, 
for  the  last  twelve  or  thirteen  months,  living  in  retirement. 
The  only  interruption  to  this  privacy  was  during  the  few 
weeks  passed  by  her  under  the  roof  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  at  Isle- 

*  Lord  Edward  was  the  only  one  amonjr  numerous  suitors  of  Mrs. 
Sheridan,  to  whom  she  is  supposed  to  have  Ustened  Aviili  anything  like 
a  return  of  feeling,  and  that  there  should  be  mutual  admiration  be- 
tween two  such  noble  specimens  of  liuman  nature,  it  is  easy,  without 
injury  to  either  of  them,  to  believe,  some  months  bef<ire  her  death, 
■when  Sheridan  had  been  describing  to  her  and  Lord  Edward,  a  b<\'iu- 
tifvd  French  girl  whom  he  had  lately  seen,  and  added,  tliat  slie  put  him 
strongly  in  mind  of  what  his  own  wife  had  been  in  the  first  bloom  of 
her  youth  and  beauty.  Mrs.  Sheridan  turned  to  Lord  Edward  and 
»5aid  \vith  a  melancholy  smile.  "  I  should  like  you  when  I  am  dead,  to 
marry  that  girl."  This  was  Paniela,  whom  Sheridan  had  just  seen  du- 
ring his  visit  of  a  few  hours  to  ^ladame  de  Geiilis  at  Bury  in  Suflolk, 
and  whom  Lord  Edward  married  in  about  a  year  after. — Jloores  Life 
of  Sheridan. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD."  91 

worth,  during  which  time  Lord  Edward  was,  more  than  once, 
afforded  an  opportunity  of  meeting  her,  but  from  a  horror  of 
learned  ladies, — not  peculiar,  as  it  would  appear  l»y  this 
instauLe,  to  poets, — always  declined  that  honour.  Tiiough 
his  imagination,  therefore,  had  been  sufficiently  prepared  by 
the  descriptions  wiiich  he  iiad  lieard  of  tlie  young  Pamela,  to 
find  much  in  her  that  would  excite  both  his  interest  and  ad- 
miration, he  had  never,  till  the  time  of  his  present  visit  to 
Paris,  seen  her. 

It  could  hardly  have  been  more  than  an  evening  or  two 
before  the  date  of  the  above  letter,  tiiat,  being  at  one  of  the 
theatres  of  Paris,  he  saw,  through  a  loge  grilLie  near  him,  a 
face  with  which  he  was  exceedingly  struck,  as  well  from  its 
own  peculiar  beauty,  as  from  the  strong  likeness  the  features 
bore  to  those  of  a  lady,  then  some  months  dead,  for  whom  he 
was  known  to  have  entertained  a  very  affectionate  regard. 
On  inquiring  who  the  young  person  was  that  had  thus  riveted 
his  attention,  he  found  it  was  no  other  than  the  very  Pamela, 
of  whose  beauty  he  had  heard  so  much — the  adopted,  or  (as 
may  now  be  said  without  scruple)  actual  daughter  of  Madame 
de  Genlis  by  the  Duke  of  Orleans.=^  Instantly,  all  his  pre- 
possessions against  the  learned  mother  vanished  ;  an  acquaint- 
ance, from  that  very  night,"}*  I  believe,  commenced  between 
them,  and  he  was  seldom  after  seen  absent  from  the  fair 
Pamela's  side. 

In  some  natures,  love  is  a  fruit  that  ripens  quickly  ;  and 
that  such  was  its  growth  in  Lord  Edward's  warm  heart  tlie 
whole  history  of  his  life  fully  testifies.    In  the  present  mstauce, 

*  In  making  this  statement,  I  but  followed  what  lias  long  been  the 
general  impression  on  the  subject.  Since  the  first  edition  of  this  work 
however,  1  have  been  honoured  with  a  communication  from  a  source 
worthy  of  ci-edence,  in  which  it  is  positively  denied  that  any  such  re- 
lalioiiship  between  Lad}'  Edward  and  the  late  Duke  of  Orleans  exist- 
ed. The  Duke  himself  it  appears  in  speaking  on  the  subject  to  his  own 
family,  always  confirmed  the  account  which  ^ladame  de  Genlis  invari- 
ably gave  both  of  the  parentage  of  the  young  Pamela,  and  of  her  own 
r  adoption  of  her. 

\  This  account  of  his  lordship'.?  first  meeting  with  Pamela,  I  receiv- 
ed from  persons  most  likely  to  know  all  that  most  intimately  concern- 
ed him. — From  another  source  however,  of  nearly  equal  authority,  I 
have  been  since  assured  that  it  was  at  the  Rai.icy  he  first  met  her. 
Such  is  the  difficulty  of  arriving  at  truth  in  these  minor  points  of  de- 
tail. 


92 


MEMOIRS    OF 


where  there  was  so  much  to  interest  and  attract  on  both  sides, 
a  liking  felt  by  either  could  not  fail  to  become  reciprocal. 
The  perfect  disinterestedness,  too,  of  the  young  soldier  threw, 
at  once,  out  of  consideration  a  difficulty  tbat  might  have 
checked  more  worldly  suitors  ;  and,  in  somewhat  less  than  a 
month  after  their  meeting  at  Paris,  Mademoiselle  Sims  (the 
name  by  which  Madame  de  Genlis  had  chosen  to  designate 
her  daughter)  became  Lady  Edward  Fitzgerald. 

The  marriage  took  place  at  Tournay, — Madame  de  Genlis 
having  consented  so  far  to  resume  the  charge  of  her  illustrious 
pupil,  Mademoiselle -d'Orleans,  as  to  place  her  in  safety  beyond 
the  borders  of  France"^, — and  the  following  is  the  lady's  own 
account  of  the  event : — 

"  Nous  arrivames  a  Tournay  dans  les  premiers  jours  de 
Dacembre  de  cette  meme  annee,  1792.  Trois  semaines  apres 
j'eus  le  bonheur  de  marier  ma  fille  d'adoption,  I'angelique 
Pamela,  a  Lord  Edouard  Fitzgerald.  Au  milieu  de  tant 
d'infortunes  et  d'injustices,  le  ciel  voulut  recompeuser  par  cet 
heureux  evenemeut  la  meilleure  action  de  ma  vie,  celle  d'avoir 
protege  I'innocence  sans  appui,  d'avoir  eleve,  adopte  Tenfant 
incomparable  que  la  Providence  jettoit  dans  mes  bras,  enfin 
d'avoir  develope  son  esprit,  sa  raison,  et  les  vertus  qui  la 
rendent  aujourd'hui  le  modele  des  epouses  et  des  meres  de 
son  age.""!" 

M.  de  Ciiartres,  the  present  King  of  France,  was  one  of 
the  witnesses  of  the  ceremony  ;  and  as  the  marriage  contains 
names  which  are,  in  their  several  ways,  sure  to  live  in  history, 
the  reader  may  not  be  displeased  to  see  an  extract  or  two 
from  it  here  : —  * 

"  A  tons  ceux,  &c.  &c,  s^avoir  faisons  que  pardevant  maitre 
Ferdinand  Joseph  Dorez,  notaire  repnblicain  de  la  residence 
de  Tournay  en  Flandre,  en  presence  des  citoiens  Louis  Philippe 
Egalite,  et  Silvestre  Mirys,  de  presents  au  dit  Tournay,  et 
temoins  requis,  sont  comparus  Edonard  Fitzgerald,  age  de 
vingt-neuf  ans  environ,  demeurant  ordinairement  a  Dublin,  en 

*  Almost  immediately  after,  Belgium  was  incorporated  with  France. 
f  Precis  de  la  conduite  de  Madame  de  Gonlia  depuis  la  Revolution. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  93 

Irelande,  natif  a  White  Hall,  a  Londres,  fils  de  James  Fitz- 
gerald, Due  de  Leiiister,  et  de  Dame  Amelie  Lennox  Duchesse 
de  Leinster,  d'une  part. 

"  Cito  enne  Ann  Caroline  Stephanie  Sims,  agee  de  dix-neuf 
ans  environ,  demeurante  a  Paris,  connue  en  France  sous  le 
nomme  de  Pamela,  native  de  Fogo  dans  I'lsle  de  Terre-neuve  ; 
fille  de  Guillaume  de  Brixey  et  de  Mary  Sims,  assistees  de  la 
cito;enne  Stephanie  Felicite  Ducrest  Brulart  Sillery,  connue 
en  dix-sept  cent  quatre-vingt-six  sous  le  nom  Comtesse  de 
Genlis,  autorisee  par  les  deux  depositions  passees  pardevant 
honorable  Guillaume  Comte  de  Mansfield,  pair  du  royaume, 
et  grand  justicier  d'Angleterre,  toutes  deux  en  date  du  vingt- 
cinq  Janvier,  dix-sept  cent  quatre-vingt-six,  d'autre  part." 

One  of  the  stipulations  is  as  follows  : — • 

"  Stipule  qu'en  cas  de  separation  les  biens,  meubles  et 
immeubles,  acquis  et  patrimoniaux  aux  dits  futurs  epoux, 
qu'ils  possederont  lors  de  cette  separation,  seront  partages 
entre  eux  par  moitie  ;  a  I'exception  neanmoins  d'une  rente 
viagere  de  six  mille  livres  de  France  annuellement,  appartennat 
a  la  future  epouse,  qui  n'entrera  point  dans  le  partage  ;  mais 
au  contraire  appartiendra  en  totalite  a  la  dite  future  epouse, 
ainsi  qu'une  autre  rente  viagere  de  douze  cens  livres. 

^s  5|S  *(•  't*  *(*  'i^ 

'  "  Etoient  signes  a  la  minute  originale  des  presentes  lettres, 
Edouard  Fitzgerald,  Pamela  Sims,  le  Lieutenant-General 
Jacques  Omoran,  Stephanie  Felicite  Ducrest  Sillery  Brulart, 
Adele  Eugene  Egalite,  Hermine  Compton,  Philippe  Egalite, 
Pulcherie  Valence,  Henriette  Screey,  Cesar  Ducrest,  L. 
Philippe  Egalite,  Silvestre  Mirys,  et  C.  J.  Dorez,  uotaire." 

In  the  mean  time,  while  the  marriage  was  thus  in  progress, 
the  publicity  given  by  the  journals  of  both  countries  to  the 
details  of  the  English  Festival,  held  lately  at  Paris,  had  pro- 
duced the  consequences  which  Lord  Edward  himself  had,  in 
a  great  measure,  anticipated.  Without  any  further  inquiry, 
and,  so  far,  no  doubt,  unjustly  and  oppressively,  his  lordship, 
together  with  two  or  three  other  officers,  who  had  offended  in 
the  same  manner,  was  dismissed  from  the  armv.  To  this 
treatment  of  his  noble  relative,  Mr.  Fox  (in  speaking  on  a 


94  MEMOIRS    OF 

motion  *  of  the  Secretary  of  War  for  the  employment  of  in- 
valids, &c.)  thus  took  occasion  to  advert  : — 

"  While  upon  the  subject  of  military,  he  deemed  it  a  fit 
opportunity  to  take  notice  of  some  occurrences  which  had 
taken  place,  but  which  he  could  not  know  the  particulars  of 
but  from  report.  He  alluded  to  certain  dismissals  which  had 
been  made  in  the  army,  as  those  of  Lord  Semple,  Lord  Ed- 
ward Fitzgerald,  and  also  Captain  Gawler.  That  there  might 
be  good  grounds  for  these  dismissals  was  possible,  but  they 
were  unknown  because  they  were  undeclared  ;  one  only  ground 
was  suggested  by  the  public  voice,  namely,  their  having  sub- 
scribed to  the  fund  raised  for  the  purpose  of  enabling  the 

French  to  carrv  on  the  war  against  their  invaders 

One  of  these  officers.  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  was 

his  near  relation,  and  of  him  he  would  say,  from  his  personal 
knowledge,  that  the  service  did  not  possess  a  more  zealous, 
meritorious,  or  promising  member  ; — he  had  served  his  coun- 
try in  actual  service,  and  bled  in  its  service." 

On  the  2d  of  January,  1793,  Lord  Edward,  with  his  young 
bride,  arrived  in  London.  He  had  written  to  ask  his  mother's 
consent  to  the  marriage  ;  but  whether  his  impatience  had 
allowed  him  to  wait  for  her  answer  appears  somewhat  doubt- 
ful. It  is,  indeed,  most  probable  that  the  letter  to  which  the 
following  note  alludes  w^as  the  first  notification  he  ever  receiv- 
ed of  her  prompt,  and,  as  ever,  indulgent  sanction. 


"dearest  mother. 


"  "Wednesday,  2d  January,  1793. 


"  Thank  you  a  thousand  times  for  your  letter  ;  you  never 
obliged  me  so  much,  or  made  me  so  happy.  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  strongly  my  little  wife  feels  it  :  she  has  sent  your  letter 
to  ]\r\  Silleri,  whom  I  knew  it  would  delight.  She  is  to  be 
pitied,  for  she  dotes  on  Pamela,  who  returns  it  most  sincerely. 
What  she  feels  is  the  only  drawback  on  my  happiness.  You 
must  love  her, — she  wants  to  be  loved. 

"  We  shall  dine  with  you  the  day  after  to-morrow.  We 
shall  not  be  able  to  get  from  the  Customhouse  time  enough  to 

*  December  21st,  1792. 


J 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  j  ■     ■        9^     \^ 

IT'         ■ 


see  you  to-morrow.     Love  to  all.     Tell  Ogilvie  how  rducli  I 
am  oblio'ed  to  him.     Yours,  dearest  mothoi' 


After  remaining  about  three  weeks  with 
Leinster,  the  nevf-married  couple  proceeded  to  DITI  _ 

the  Session  of  Parliament  had  commenced  on  the  10th  of 
January  ;  and,  in  an  Irish  newspaper,  dated  the  26th  of  this 
month,  I  find  their  arrival  thus  announced  :  "  Yesterday  morn- 
ins:,  arrived  the  Princess  Royal,  Captain  Browne,  from 
Parko-ate,  with  the  Rio'ht  Hon.  Lord  Edward  Fitz2,'erald,  his 
lady  and  suite,  and  several  other  persons  of  quality." 

In  order  to  convey  to  my  readers  any  clear  idea  of  the  sort 
of  political  atmosphere  into  -which  Lord  Edward, — himself 
more  than  sufficiently  excited, — now  plunged  at  once  on  his 
return  to  Dublin,  it  will  l^e  necessary  to  recall  briefly  to  their 
recollection  the  historv  of  Irish  affairs  for  the  last  fourteen  or 
fifteen  years  preceding  ; — and  a  few  dates  and  facts,  requiring 
but  little  comment,  will  bring  more  vividly,  and,  as  it  were, 
bodily,  before  their  eyes,  the  state  of  Ireland  at  this  moment, 
than  any  description  that  eloquence,  however  forcible,  could 
give  it. 

In  the  year  1776,  the  people  of  Ireland  first  learned  the 
dangerous  lesson,  that  to  the  fears,  rather  than  the  justice,  of 
their  rulers,  thev  must  thenceforward  look  for  either  riirht  or 
favour.  In  the  summer  of  that  year,  America  proclaimed  her 
independence,  and  in  the  course  of  the  autumn  the  first  link 
was  struck  from  the  chain  of  the  Catholic  :  the  law  then  al- 
lowing  him  to  acquire  an  interest  in  the  soil,  which  he  had 
hitherto  trod  but  bv  sufferance,  as  a  serf.  Small  as  was  the 
seed  of  liberty  thus  sown,  all  that  Ireland  has  since  gained 
may  be  considered  as  its  fruits.  In  a  year  or  two  after,  the 
cause  of  American  independence  was  espoused  openly  by  the 
courts  of  France  and  Spain.  The  resources  of  England  were 
reduced  to  the  lowest  ebb,  and  the  fleets  of  the  enemy  menac- 
ed the  British  shores.  In  this  predicament,  the  town  of  Bel- 
fast, which  had  been  invaded  by  the  French  eighteen  years 
before,  applied  to  government  for  protection,  and  received 
the  memorai)le  answer,  "  We  have  not  the  means  ; — vou  must 
defend  vourselves."  Never  was  an  avowal  of  feebleness,  on 
the  part  of  a  government,  responded  to  by  a  more  noble  or 


96  MEMOIRS    OF 

generous  manifestation  of  strength  on  the  part  of  the  people. 
Instantly  an  immense  army  of  volunteers  sprung  up,  as  if  by 
enchantment,  through  the  country.  The  sympathies  of  all, — • 
even  of  the  outcast  Catholic, — rallied  round  the  patriotic 
standard  ;  and  could  Ireland  then  have  claimed  the  services 
of  all  her  sons,  she  would  have  exhibited  to  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  at  this  magnificent  moment,  that  only  true  fortress  of 
freedom,  an  armed  people.  As  it  was,  in  less  than  a  year 
from  their  first  formation,  the  volunteer  force  amounted  to 
80,000  men  ;  the  hour  of  England's  weakness  was  found  to 
be  that  of  Ireland's  strength  ;  and  in  this  attitude,  as  formi- 
dable to  her  rulers  as  to  the  enemy,  she  demanded  and  obtain- 
ed from  England  a  free  trade  and  independent  legislature. 

Such  a  spirit,  once  evoked,  was  not  easily  to  be  laid.  Hav- 
ing secured  the  independence  of  their  parliament,  the  next 
task  of  these  armed  patriots  was  to  effect  its  reform  ;  and, 
accordingly,  in  the  year  1783,  a  Convention  of  this  body 
assembled  in  Dublin,  holding  their  deliberations  on  Reform, 
even  during  the  sitting  of  parliament,  and  assuming  powers 
and  functions  co-ordinate  with  those  of  the  two  acting  branches 
of  the  legislature.  How  far  this  military  intervention  might 
have  ventured  to  proceed,  had  it  not  been  guided  by  a  leader 
so  temperate,  and,  at  the  same  time,  so  popular  as  Lord  Char- 
lemont,  it  is  impossible  to  say  ;  but  that  a  collision  was  on  the 
point  of  taking  place  between  these  armed  deliberators  and 
the  legislative  councils  of  the  nation  must  be  evident  to  every 
reader  of  the  history  of  that  crisis.  It  is,  indeed,  now  well 
known,  that  there  was,  at  that  moment,  in  full  equipment,  at 
Belfast,  a  train  of  artillery,  with  a  considerable  supply  of  am- 
munition, and  a  large  corps  of  volunteers,  ready  to  march  to 
the  aid  of  the  Convention,  if  necessary. 

Formidable,  however,  as  this  body  appeared  in  numbers  and 
spirit,  it  was  yet  but  a  very  small  portion  of  the  Irish  nation, 
and  had  even  precluded  itself  from  the  sympathies  it  might 
have  commanded  from  the  great  bulk  of  the  people  by  reject- 
ing, more  than  once,  a  proposition  laid  before  it  for  the  exten- 
sion of  the  elective  franchise  to  Catholics.  Against  such  an 
assembly,  therefore,  so  little  backed  by  the  collective  sense 
of  the  nation,  it  is  not  wonderful  that  the  governing  party 
should  feel  itself  sufficiently  strong  to  assume,  at  once,  a  high 
tone  of  determination  and  resistance.     A  motion  for  Reform, 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  97 

upon  a  plan  previously  agreed  on  in  the  Convention,  having 
been  brought  before  the  House  of  Commons  by  Mr.  Flood, — 
himself  dressed  in  the  volunteer  uniform,  and  surrounded  by 
other  members,  some  of  them  Delegates,  in  the  same  military 
array, — after  a  long  and  stormy  debate,  maintained,  on  both 
sides,  with  a  spirit  of  defiance  which  an  eye-witness  of  the 
scene  describes  as  "  almost  terrific,"  the  rejection  of  the  mea- 
sure was  carried  by  a  majority  of  159  to  77,  and  a  lesson  of 
national  union  thus  inculcated  upon  Irishmen,  of  which,  through 
the  eventful  years  that  followed,  they  were  not  slow  in  profit- 
ing. 

Already,  indeed,  had  there  appeared  symptoms  of  friendly 
approximation  among  those  sects  into  which  the  people  of 
Ireland  arc  even  more  politically  than  religiously  divided,  and 
from  whose  disunion  all  the  misery  of  their  common  country 
springs.  Among  the  Protestant  voices  of  the  senate,  some 
already  had  pleaded  eloquently  for  the  Catholic.  A  bishop 
of  the  established  church  '^', — one  hardly,  however,  to  be  cited 
as  a  churchman, — had  said,  in  addressing  the  volunteers  on 
this  now  novel  subject,  "  Tyranny  is  not  government,  and 
allegiance  is  due  only  to  protection."  The  Presbyterians,  too, 
of  the  north,  the  last,  it  might  be  supposed,  this  new  light 
could  reach,  were,  on  the  contrary,  the  first  and  promptest  to 
sacrifice  all  sectarian  prejudices  on  the  wide  national  altar  of 
union  and  freedom.  The  volunteers  of  Belfast  had  given  in- 
structions to  their  delegates  in  the  Convention  to  support,  as 
one  of  the  essential  ingredients  of  Reform,  the  free  admission 
of  Catholics  to  all  the  rights  of  freemen  ;  and,  among  the 
circumstances  indicative  of  the  growing  temper  of  the  times, 
it  could  not  fail  to  be  observed,  that  the  able  Catholic  divine, 
O'Leary,  on  entering  the  doors  of  the  military  Congress,  was 
received  with  a  full  salute  of  rested  arms  by  the  volunteers. 

Hitherto,  however,  this  new  feeling  of  liberality  had  been 
confined,  comparatively,  but  to  a  few,  and  even  in  them,  not- 
withstanding the  increased  heat  of  the  political  temperature 
of  the  times,  was,  as  yet,  but  imperfectly  ripened.  If  civil 
and  religious  liberty  are,  as  they  have  been  sometimes  de- 
scribed, twins,  it  is  lamental)le  to  observe  how  much  more 
tardy  and  stunted  is,  in  most  cases,  the  growth  of  the  latter 

*  The  Bisliop  of  Derr}-. 


98  MEMOIRS    OF 

than  of  the  former.  It  was  not  till  convmced  of  their  own 
weakness  by  the  failure  of  this  great  effort  for  Reform,  that 
the  attention  of  the  Whigs  and  other  more  daring  speculators 
in  polities  was  turned  seriously  and  sincerely  to  those  disquali- 
fying statutes  which  had  robbed  their  cause  of  the  great 
momentum  of  the  general  mind,  and  left  them  a  powerless 
colony  in  the  midst  of  a  disfranchised  nation.  From  this 
moment,  Catholic  Freedom  went  hand  in  hand,  in  all  their 
projects,  with  Reform  ;  and  the  same  Dissenters  who  had 
formed  the  flower  of  the  civic  army  in  1782,  were  now  the 
foremost  to  seek,  in  a  cordial  reconcilement  of  all  sects,  a 
more  extended  and  national  basis  for  their  patriotism. 

This  growing  coalition  between  the  Catholics  and  the  Dis- 
senters, to  which  the  one  party  brought  intelligence  and 
republican  spirit,  and  the  other  deep-rooted  discontent  and 
numerical  force,  had  for  its  chief  cement  a  feeUng,  common  to 
both,  of  impatience  under  the  exactions  of  the  established 
church  ;  and  a  demonstration,  among  many  others,  of  their 
joint  aims  against  this  vulnerable  point,  occurred  in  the  year 
1787,  when  the  celebrated  Father  O'Leary,  already  men- 
tioned, found  himself  seconded  by  Dr.  Campbell,  and  other 
Presbvterian  ministers,  in  his  well-kuown  and  amusing  contro- 
versy  with  the  Bishop  of  Cloyne. 

Still,  however,  their  mutual  tie  was  but  slight  and  distant  ; 
nor  was  it  till  the  astounding  burst  of  the  French  revolution 
had  scattered  hopes  and  fears  of  change  through  all  nations, 
that  their  alliance  began  to  assume  any  very  decisive  or 
formidable  consistency.  In  the  mean  time,  the  government, 
with  that  infatuation  which  attends  all  governments  so  situ- 
ated, had,  in  proportion  as  the  people  took  bolder  views  of 
the  responsibility  of  the  trust  committed  to  their  rulers,  gone 
on  abusing  that  trust  by  such  a  system  of  corruption  as,  for 
its  waste  and  shamelessness,  defies  all  parallel.  As  far  as 
openness,  indeed,  may  be  thought  to  take  away  from  the 
danger  or  ignominy  of  such  traffic,  neither  in  the  buyer  or 
the  bought  was  there  any  want  of  this  quality  in  the  Irish 
market ;  and  the  well-known  threat,  or  rather  lure,  held  out 
by  Lord  Clare*  to  a  refractory  opposition,  is  worth  volumes 
in  pourtrayiug  the  spirit  both  of  his  own  times  and  those 

*  When  Attorney-General. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  99 

that  preceded  them.  "  Half  a  million,"  he  said,  "  or  more, 
had  been  expended,  some  years  before,  to  break  an  Op- 
position ;  and  the  same,  or  a  greater  sum,  might  be  necessary 
now." 

It  was  in  speaking  of  that  period, — the  portion  of  it,  at 
least,  between  1784  and  1790, — that  Mr.  Grattan  made  use 
of  the  following  strong  language  :  "  You  have  no  adequate 
responsibility  in  Ireland,  and  politicians  laugh  at  the  sword  of 
■justice,  which  falls  short  of  their  heads,  and  only  precipitates 

on  their  reputation and  yet  in  this  country  we 

have  had  victims  ;  the  aristocracy  has,  at  different  times, 
been  a  victim  ;  the  whole  people  of  Ireland,  for  almost  an 
entire  century,  were  a  victim  ;  but  ministers,  in  all  their 
criminal  succession, — here  is  a  chasm,  a  blank  in  your  his- 
tory. Sir,  you  have  in  Ireland  no  axe, — therefore,  no  good 
minister." 

The  part  taken  by  the  Irish  parliament  on  the  question  of 
the  Regency,  in  1789,  had  consequences,  both  immediate  and 
remote,  of  the  most  signal  importance  to  Ireland,  One  of 
the  first  effects  of  the  new  division  of  parties  which  then  took 
place  was  to  throw  an  immense  accession  of  strength  into  the 
ranks  of  the  Opposition  ;  and  this  reinforcement  of  the  popu- 
lar cause  accruing  just  at  the  moment  when  the  example  of 
the  French  Revolution  was  beginning  to  agitate  all  minds, 
formed  such  a  concurrence  of  exciting  causes,  at  the  beginning 
of  the  year  1790,  as  diffused  the  ruffle  of  an  approaching 
storm  over  the  whole  face  of  society.  Words,  spoken  in  high 
places,  fall  with  even  more  than  their  due  weight  on  the  pubhc 
ear  ;  and  the  language  of  the  parliamentary  orators  at  this 
period  lost  none  of  its  impression  from  the  million  of  echoes 
that,  out  of  doors,  repeated  it. 

"  Do  you  imagine,"  said  Mr.  Grattan,  "  that  the  laws  of 
this  country  can  retain  due  authoritv  under  a  svstem  such  as 
yours  ; — a  system  which  not  only  poisons  the  source  of  the 
law,  but  pollutes  the  seats  of  judgment  ?....The  present  ad- 
ministration is  an  enemy  to  the  law  :  first,  because  it  has 
broken  the  law  ;  secondly,  because  it  has  attempted  to  poison 
the  true  sources  both  of  legislation  and  justice  ;  and  however 
the  friends  of  that  administration  may  talk  plausibly  on  the 
subject  of  public  tranquillity,  they  are,  in  fact,  the  ringleaders 
of  sedition  placed  in  authority.     Rank  majorities  may  give  a 


100  MEMOIRS    OF 

nation  law,  but  rank  majorities  cannot  give  law  authority." 
In  the  course  of  the  same  session  (1790)  Mr.  O'Neill,  while 
animadverting  upon  the  corrupt  influence  of  government, 
thus  predicted  but  too  truly  the  catastrophe  to  which  they 
were  hurrying  : — "  I  do  say,  and  I  say  it  prophetically,  that 
the  people  will  resist.  The  members  of  this  house  bear  but  a 
small  proportion  to  the  people  at  large.  There  are  gentlemen 
outside  these  doors,  of  as  good  education  and  of  as  much  judg- 
ment of  the  relative  duties  of  representation  as  any  man  within 
doors  ; — and  matters  are  evidently  ripening  and  will  come  to 
a  crisis," 

The  immense  efficacy  of  clubs  and  societies,  as  instruments 
of  political  agitation,  had  been  evinced  by  the  use  which  the 
workers  of  the  French  Revolution  had  made  of  them  ;  and  it 
is  a  striking  proof  of  the  little  foresight  with  which  the  steps 
even  of  the  most  cautious  are  sometimes  taken,  that  to  no 
less  moderate  a  Whig  than  Lord  Charlemont  did  Ireland  owe, 
at  this  crisis,  the  first  example  of  that  sort  of  combination  for 
political  purposes  which  became  afterwards  such  a  lever  in  the 
hands  of  her  millions.  At  the  latter  end  of  1789  this  excel- 
lent nobleman  had,  with  the  aid  of  Mr.  Grattan,  founded  a 
Whig  Club  in  Dublin,  and,  shortly  after,  a  similar  society 
was,  through  his  lordship's  means,  instituted  at  Belfast.  To 
cultivate  the  old  Revolution  principles,  as  distinguished  from 
the  democratic  theories  of  the  day,  was  the  professed  object 
of  these  clubs  ;  but  it  was  soon  seen  that  the  new  revolution- 
ary school  had,  in  the  minds  of  most  of  the  northern  zealots 
of  freedom,  superseded  the  venerable  doctrines  of  1688.  The 
example  set  by  Lord  Charlemont  was,  in  all  but  its  modera- 
tion, imitated  ;  other  clubs,  keeping  pace  more"  boldly  with 
the  advancing  spirit  of  the  times,  succeeded  ;  and,  at  length, 
in  the  ensuing  year,  1791,  was  formed  that  deep  and  compre- 
hensive "Plot  of  Patriots"  (as  they  themselves  described  it), 
the  Society  of  United  Irishmen  ; — professing,  as  the  aim  and 
principle  of  their  Union,  "  the  greatest  happiness  of  the  great- 
est number,"  and  calling  upon  all  sects  and  denominations  of 
Irishmen  to  join  them  in  the  one  great,  common  cause  of 
political,  religious,  and  national  enfranchisement. 

Among  the  new  features  which  distino'uished  this  club  from 
its  predecessors,  the  prominence  now  for  the  first  time  given 
to  the  wrongs  of  the  Catholics,  as  one  of  those  evils  of  which 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  101 

the  whole  nation  should  call  loudly  for  the  redress,  was  hj  far 
the  most  important.  Too  long  had  the  old  AVhig  feeling  of 
hatred  to  Popery  succeeded  in  blinding  many  of  the  Protestant 
advocates  of  freedom  to  the  true  interests  of  that  cause  which 
they  but  as  colonists,  not  as  Irishmen,  pleaded.  Agreeing  to 
"  call  it  freedom  if  themselves  were  free,"  they  took  no  account 
of  the  great  mass  of  living  materials,  out  of  which  alone  the 
pile  of  national  liberty  can  be  constructed.  The  Volunteer 
Convention  of  1783,  in  all  their  pride  of  patriotism,  were  yet 
unwilling,  as  we  have  seen,  to  connect  the  question  of  Catiio- 
lic  freedom  with  Reform  ;  and,  most  absurdly,  while  demand- 
ing a  wide  extension  of  the  right  of  suffrage,  were  for  leaving 
the  numbers  of  those  who  could  exercise  it  as  limited  as  ever. 
The  Whig  Club  too,  though,  as  individuals,  some  of  their 
body  were  warm  advocates  of  the  Catholics,  yet,  as  a  society, 
so  far  threw  damp  upon  the  questio'n  as  to  exclude  it  from 
among  their  subjects  of  discussion. 

By  this  impolitic  backwardness  in  their  cause,  the  great 
bulk  of  the  people  were,  by  degrees,  alienated  from  all  confi- 
dence in  the  legitimate  guardians  of  their  rights, — were  left  to 
listen  to  the  call  of  other  and  bolder  leaders,  and  to  look  to 
that  ominous  light  now  kindled  in  the  north  as  their  sole  and 
sure  beacon  of  invitation  and  hope.  To  those  whose  object  it 
was  to  rally  all  the  nation's  energies  round  a  flag  of  a  far 
deeper  green  than  the  pale  standard  of  Whigism,  this  distrust 
of  their  parliamentary  friends  by  the  people  was  by  no  means 
unwelcome  ;  nor,  as  far  as  courtesy  to  the  individuals  in 
question  would  permit,  did  they  fail  to  encourage  it.  "  Trust," 
said  they,  in  one  of  their  Addresses*,  "  as  little  to  your  friends 
as  to  your  enemies,  in  a  matter  where  you  can  act  only  by 
yourselves.  The  will  of  the  nation  must  be  declared  before 
any  Reform  can  take  placef ." 

*  Address  of  the  Society  of  United  Irislimen  of  Dublin  to  the  Irish 
Nation. 

•j-  In  this  sentence  they  seem  to  refer  to  Paiue's  notions  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Reform: — "A  government  on  the  principles  upon  -which  con- 
stitutional governments,  arising  out  of  society,  are  established,  cannot 

have  the  right  of  altering  itself. The  bill  which  Mr.  Pitt  br(>ught 

into  Parliament  some  years  ago,  to  reforin  Parliament,  was  on  this  er- 
roneous principle.  The  right  of  Reform  is  in  the  nation  in  its  original 
character,  and  the  constitutional  method  would  be  by  a  General  Con- 
vention elected  for  the  purpose." 


102  MEMOIRS    OF 

Anticipating,  too  (as  they  well  might,  under  any  govern- 
ment less  infatuated)  the  probability  of  their  being,  before 
long,  deprived  of  their  hold  upon  the  Catholics  by  a  season- 
able and  liberal  concession  of  their  claims,  they  took  care  not 
to  fall  into  the  error  which  has  been,  in  our  own  times,  com- 
mitted, of  representing  this  concession,  however  important,  as 
the  "  one  thing  needful,"  but  thus,  in  another  of  their  Ad- 
dresses, guarded  themselves  against  any  such  misconception  or 
limitation  of  their  views  : — "  In  the  sincerity  of  our  souls  do 
we  desire  Catholic  Emancipation  ;  but,  were  it  obtained  to- 
morrow, to-morrow  should  we  go  on  as  we  do  to-day,  in  the 
pursuit  of  that  Reform  which  would  still  be  Avanting  to  ratify 
their  liberties  as  well  as  our  own." 

With  all  this,  however,  it  was  still  but  by  very  slow  degrees 
that  the  better  order  of^Catholics  lent  themselves  to  the  ex- 
citing call  of  their  fellow-countrymen.  Not,  assuredly,  from 
any  tendency  that  there  is  in  their  faith,  more  than  in  most 
others,  to  weaken  or  counteract  the  spirit  of  liberty, — an  as- 
sumption which  the  events  of  our  own  time  must  have  suffici- 
ently set  to  rest, — but  from  the  timidity  and  want  of  self- 
confidence  engendered  by  a  long  course  of  slavery,  and  the 
hope  still  kept  alive  in  their  hearts  of  some  boon  from  the 
free  grace  of  government,  they  were  at  first,  naturally,  fearful 
of  putting  to  hazard  whatever  advantages  their  present  posi- 
tion might  possess  for  the  precarious  and  stormy  chances  of 
an  alliance  which  seemed  to  offer  no  medium  between  success 
and  ruin. 

To  this  cautious  line  of  policy  the  influence  of  some  of  their 
peers  and  chief  gentry,  who  had  hitherto  taken  the  leading 
part  in  their  deliberations,  had  been  successful  in  restraining 
them  ;  but  the  same  impatience  under  aristocratic  rule  which 
was  now  pervading  all  Europe  could  not  but  find  its  way  at 
leno-th  into  the  councils  of  the  Catholics.  So  late  as  the  year 
1791,  these  hereditary  conductors  of  their  cause  had  taken 
upon  themselves,  in  the  name  of  the  whole  body,  to  present 
an  Address  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  condemnatory  of  the 
spirit  and  tendency  of  the  popular  associations  of  the  day, 
and  leaving,  with  implicit  loyalty,  to  the  discretion  of  govern- 
ment the  measure  of  justice  it  might  think  proper  to  accord 
to  their  claims. 

This  offensive  mixture,  in  their  aristocratic  leaders,  of  die- 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  103 

tation  to  the  people  and  servility  to  the  Court  was  at  once  felt 
to  have  incapacitated  them  from  being  any  longer  the  organs 
of  a  ])ody  rising  into  the  proud  attitude  of  assertors  of  their 
own  rights.  The  proceedings  of  this  small  knot  of  lords  and 
gentlemen  were  accordingly  protested  against  by  those  whom 
tliey  pretended  to  represent  ;  and  a  separation  having  in  con- 
sequence taken  place  between  them  and  the  great  mass  of  the 
Catholics,  the  conduct  of  the  cause  devolved  from  thencefortli 
into  the  hands  of  commercial  men  of  intelligence  and  spirit, 
whose  position  in  society  gave  them  an  insight  into  the  grow- 
ing demands  of  the  country,  and  placed  their  minds,  as  it 
were,  in  contact  with  those  popular  influences  and  sympathies 
from  which  the  proud  seclusion  in  which  they  lived  had  insu- 
lated the  former  managers  of  their  cause. 

From  this  moment  the  political  views  of  the  Catholic  Com- 
rjittee  and  the  United  Irish  Societies  began  manifestly  to  con- 
verge towards  the  same  formidable  object — a  general  and 
nationalized  league  against  English  power.  Even  the  feud 
which  had  for  some  time  raged  in  the  North  between  the  low- 
er classes  of  Roman  Catholics  and  Presbyterians,  and  which 
has  bequeathed,  in  the  transmitted  spirit  of  its  Peep-o'-day 
boys,  the  curse  of  Orangeism  to  Ireland,  could  not  prevent  a 
great  majority  of  the  better  order  of  both  sects  from  drawing 
cordially  towards  a  union,  by  which  alone,  they  saw,  their 
common  objects  could  be  affected.  The  appointment,  indeed, 
of  Theobald  Wolfe  Tone,  the  founder  of  the  first  society  of 
United  Irishmen,  to  be  Secretary  of  the  Catholic  Committee, 
gave  sufficiently  intelligible  warning  that  the  time  was  at  hand 
when  the  same  spirit  would  be  found  to  actuate  both  these 
bodies. 

To  the  confluence  of  troubled  waters  which  I  have  been 
here  describing,  the  example  and  progress  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution were  giving,  every  day,  a  more  revolutionary  colour  and 
course.  In  the  year  1790-1,  the  Irish  A^olunteers  had  trans- 
mitted an  Address  to  the  National  Assembly  of  France,  and 
received  from  them  a  long  and  fraternizing  answer  in  return. 
On  the  14th  of  July,  1792,  the  town  of  Belfast,  now  foremost 
in  the  race  of  democracy,  had  celebrated  by  a  grand  Proces- 
sion and  Festival  the  anniversary  of  the  French  Revolution 
and  among  the  devices  and  inscriptions  displayed  on  the  occa- 
sion, one  or  two  will  sufficiently  give  a  notion  of  the  repul)l> 


104  MEMOIRS    OF 

can  spirit  that  pervaded  the  whole  ceremony.  On  a  group  of 
emblematic  figures  was  inscribed,  "  Our  Gallic  brethren  were 
born  July  14,  1789  : — alas  !  we  are  still  in  embryo."  On 
the  reverse,  "  Superstitious  jealousy,  the  cause  of  the  Irish 
Bastille  :  let  us  unite  and  destroy  it."  To  this  meeting  the 
Catholic  Committee  of  Dublin  sent  down  a  deputation,  and  a 
dinner  given  to  those  deputies,  a  day  or  two  after  the  Festi- 
val, is  thus  described  by  Tone  :  "  Chequered  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  sat  Dissenter  and  Catholic.  The  four  flags,  Ame- 
rica, France,  Poland,  Ireland,  but  no  England.^^ 

It  is  not  wonderful  that,  by  such  manifestations  of  public 
feeling,  even  the  government  of  that  day,  hardened  as  it  was 
to  all  better  appeals,  should,  at  length,  find  itself  alarmed  into 
some  show  of  justice.     The  justice,  however,  that  is  wrung 
from  fear,  but  adds  contempt  to  the  former  sense  of  wrong  ; 
and  the  whole  history  of  the  concession  doled  out  to  the 
Catholics,  in  this  and  the  ensuing  year,   but  exhibits,  in  its 
fullest  perfection,  that  perverse  art,  in  which  Irish  rulers  have 
shown  themselves   such   adepts,   of  throwing  a  blight  over 
favours  by  the  motive  and  manner  of  conferring  them,- — an 
art,  which  vmhappily  has  had  the  effect  of  rendering  barren, 
thankless,  and  unblest,  some  of  the  fairest  boons  bestowed  by 
England  upon  Ireland.     At  the  beginning  of  this  year  (1792), 
a  Bill,  brought  forward  avowedly  under  the  sanction  of  gov- 
ernment, gave  to  the  Irish  Catholics  the  right  of  admission  to 
the  bar,  and  repealed  one  or  two  of  the  most  odious  of  the 
penal  statutes.     But,  almost  at  that  same  time,  a  respectful 
petition  from  that  body,  praying  for  "  the  restoration  to  them 
of  some  share  in  the  elective  franchise,"  was,  with  a  degree  of 
bitterness  and  indignity  which  seemed  as  it  were  a  relief  after 
their  late  effort  of  liberality,  spurned  away  from  the  table  of 
the  House  of  Commons  ; — thus  not  only  poisoning  the  scanty 
measure  of  relief  just  afforded,  but  teaching  the  Catholic  how 
to  estimate  the  sudden  access  of  generosity  by  which  the  very 
same  parliament  was  actuated  towards  him  in  the  following 
year,  when,  in  a  moment  of  panic,  they  of  themselves  hurried 
forward  to  invest  him  with  even  more  extensive  riirhts  than 
those  which  the  petition,  now  so  insultingly  thrown  out,  soli- 
cited. 

In  the  course  of  the  session  of  1792,  two  fearful  predictions 
were  uttered,  one  of  which  the  accomplishment  followed  but 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  lOft 

too  speedily.  In  exposing  the  gross  corruption  of  the  govern- 
ment, Mr.  Ponsonby  said  strongly,  that  "  an  hour  would  come 
when  the  country  would  endure  any  extremity  rather  than 
submit  to  the  system  of  influence  that  had  been  established  ;" 
and  Mr.  Grattan,  in  the  debate  on  the  Catholic  Bill,  alluding 
to  the  prospect  of  a  Union,  which  was  then,  for  the  second 
or  third  time  in  the  course  of  the  century,  threatened,  pro- 
nounced it  a  measure  that  *'  would  be  fatal  to  England,  begin- 
ning with  a  false  compromise  which  they  might  call  a  Union, 
to  end  in  eternal  separation,  through  the  process  of  two  civil 


wars." 


The  immediate  effect  of  the  haughty  repulse  which  the 
Catholics  suffered  this  session  was  to  impress  upon  themselves  , 
and  their  Protestant  advisers  the  necessitv  of  acting;  with  re- 
doubled  vigour  in  future,  and  of  devising  some  plan  by  which 
the  collective  sense  of  the  whole  Catholic  population  might  be 
brought  to  bear,  peacefully  and  legally,  but,  at  the  same  time, 
with  all  the  weight  implied  in  such  formidable  unanimity,  up- 
on the  government.  This  they  were  enabled  to  effect  towards 
the  close  of  1792,  by  a  system  of  delegation,  embracing  all 
the  counties  and  many  of  the  great  towns  and  districts  of 
Ireland.  Writs  were  issued  to  the  electoral  bodies,  who  had 
been,  in  each  place,  chosen  to  name  the  delegates,  and  in  the 
month  of  December,  a  Convention,  representing  the  entire 
Catholic  population,  commenced  its  sittings  with  all  the  forms 
of  a  Legislative  Assembly,  in  Dublin. 

Authoritative  and  commanding,  in  itself,  as  speaking  the 
voice  of  at  least  three-fourths  of  the  nation,  this  body  was 
also  backed  by  a  considerable  proportion  of  the  Protestant 
talent  and  spirit  of  the  country,  in  and  out  of  parliament,  as 
well  as  by  the  daily  increasing  confederacy  of  the  Presbyter- 
ian republicans  of  the  North.  While  the  late  Catholic  Bill 
had  been  before  the  House,  a  petition  was  sent  up,  signed  by 
numbers  of  the  most  respectable  persons  in  Belfast,  praying 
that  the  Legislature  would  repeal  all  penal  laws  against  the 
Catholics,  and  place  them  on  the  same  footing  with  their 
Protestant  fellow-subjects. 

Among  other  symptoms  of  the  rapid  progress  now  making 
towards  that  national  union  from  which  alone  English  supre- 
macy has  any  danger  to  fear,  it  is  mentioned  that  the  Yolun- 
teers  of  Dublin,  on  the  recent  celebration  of  the  4th  of  No- 


106  MEMOIRS    OF 

vember,  had  refused  to  parade,  as  usual,  round  the  statue  of 
King  William,  and  that,  while  all  of  them  had  discarded  their 
orange  ribbons,  some  had  even  appeared,  on  that  day,  in  cock- 
ades of  the  national  green.  But  the  event,  among  these 
minor  indications  of  public  feeling,  in  which  the  government 
must  have  seen  most  formidably  shadowed  out  the  forthcom- 
ing results  of  their  own  obstinate  misrule,  was  the  enthusiastic 
reception  given,  at  Belfast  "^j  to  the  five  Catholic  Delegates, 
whom  the  General  Committee  had  deputed  to  lay  their  Peti- 
tion before  the  king.  "  On  their  departure,"  say  the  accounts 
of  the  day,  "  the  assembled  populace  took  the  horses  from 
their  carriage,  and  drew  them  quite  through  the  town  over 
the  long  bridge  on  the  road  to  Donaghadee,  amidst  the  loud- 
est huzzas  and  cries  of  '  Success  attend  you,'  '  Union,'  *  Equal 
laws,'  and  *  Down  with  the  Ascendancy.' " 

Such, — as  briefly  brought  before  the  eyes  of  my  readers  as 
the  subject  would  allow, — was  the  state  of  ominous  excite- 
ment to  which  a  long  train  of  causes,  foreign  and  domestic, 
all  tending  towards  the  same  inevitable  crisis,  had  concurred 
in  winding  up  the  public  mind  in  Ireland,  at  the  time  when 
Lord  Edward  arrived  to  fix  his  residence  in  that  country. 
He  found  the  Parliament  already  assembled,  and  had  not 
more  than  a  dav  or  two  taken  his  seat,  when,  in  the  course  of 
a  Debate  on  an  address  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  he,  by  one 
of  those  short  bursts  of  feeling  which  have  a  far  better  chance 
of  living  in  history  than  the  most  elaborate  harangue,  showed 
how  unrestrainedly  all  his  sympathies  had,  even  at  this  time, 
connnitted  themselves  with  the  srreat  national  strusfo'le  in 
which  his  countrymen  were  engaged. 

In  order  to  understand  clearly  the  occasion  on  which  this 
manifestation  of  his  feelings  was  called  forth,  a  brief  reference 
to  some  anterior  circumstances,  marked  strongly  with  the 
character  of  the  times,  may  not  be  superfluous. 

Among  the  many  plans  devised  by  the  L^nited  Irishmen, 
for  banding  and  organizing  the  people,  a  revival,  or  rather 
extension,  of  the  old  volunteer  system  had  been  resorted  to 
with  success  by  the  patriots  of  the  North,  and  was  now  about 
to  be  tried,  on  even  a  more  daring  scale,  in  Dublin.  An 
armed  association,   calling   themselves   the . "  Eirst  National 

*  December,  1792. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  107 

Battalion,"  aud  bearing,  for  their  device,  au  Irish  harp,  with- 
out a  crown,  surmounted  bv  a  cap  of  Liberty,  had,  in  the 
month  of  December,  1792,  sent  forth  summonses  for  the 
meeting  of  their  corps  :  but  a  Proclamation,  issued  by  govern- 
ment on  the  day  preceding  their  meeting,  put  a  stop  to  the 
design. 

Notwithstanding  this,  however,  an  assembhug  of  Delegates 
from  the  Old  Volunteer  corps  of  Dublin  announced  their 
intention,  shortlv  after,  of  holding  a  meeting:  to  celebrate  the 
late  retreat  of  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  and  the  French  victory 
in  Brabant.  To  confound  these  old  established  corps  of  Vol- 
unteers with  the  new  military  associations  emanating  from  the 
system  of  the  United  Irishmen  was  the  obvious  policy  of  a 
government  interested  in  suppressing  all  such  combinations. 
In  order  to  render,  however,  the  proclamation  issued  against 
the  National  Guard  available  for  the  dispersion  of  more  inno- 
cent assemblages,  it  was  thousrht  necessarv,  as  a  matter  of 
form,  to  apply  for  the  sanction  of  Parliament  ;  and  a  motion 
was  accordino'lv  made,  on  the  31st  of  Januarv,  for  an  Address 
to  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  approving  the  Proclamation,  and 
pledging  the  House  to  support  cordially  such  measures  as 
misrht  be  necessarv  to  bring  it  into  full  effect. 

It  was  on  this  occasion  that  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  gave 
vent  to  his  feeliuirs  in  those  few  bold  words  to  which  I  have 
already  adverted,  and  which  have  been  recorded  with  such 
fidelity  by  all  historians  of  the  Irish  Parliament.  At  the  very 
end  of  the  discussion,  after  several  of  the  chief  members  of 
opposition,  and,  among  others,  Mr.  Grattau  himself,  had 
declared  their  approval  of  the  Proclamation,  and  condemned 
strongly  the  repubhcan  language  of  some  of  the  summonses 
aud  resolutions  of  the  volunteers.  Lord  Edward,  as  if  unable 
any  longer  to  contain  himself,  started  up,  and  with  great 
euersrv  of  manner,  said — ''  Sir.  I  srive  mv  most  heartv  disap- 
probation  to  this  address,  for  I  do  think  that  the  Lord  Lieu- 
tenant and  the  majority  of  this  House  are  the  worst  subjects 
the  King  has." 

Loud^cries  of  ''to  the  Bar"  and  "take  down  his  words" 
resounded  instantly  from  all  sides.  The  House  was  cleared  in 
a  moment,  and  nearly  three  hours  elapsed  before  strangers 
were  re-admitted.  During  this  interval  attempts  were  in  vain 
made  to  induce  the  refractory  member  to  apologize.     All  that 


108  MEMOIRS    OF  > 

either  persuasion  or  the  threatened  rigour  of  the  House  could 
draw  from  him  was  a  few  equivocal  words,  in  which,  with 
some  humour,  (if  the  report  I  have  heard  of  them  be  true,) 
he  reasserted  his  former  obnoxious  opinion,  saying,  "  I  am 
accused  of  having  declared  that  I  think  the  Lord  Lieutenant 
and  the  majority  of  this  House  the  worst  subjects  the  King 
has  : — I  said  so,  'tis  true,  and  I'm  sorry  for  it."  If  such 
really  were  the  terms  of  his  lordship's  explanation,  it  can  but 
little  surprise  us  that  the  House  should  have  come  to  a  unani- 
mous resolution,  "that  the  excuse  offered  by  the  Right  Hon. 
Edward  Fitzgerald,  commonly  called  Lord  Edward  Fitz- 
gerald, for  the  said  words  so  spoken,  is  unsatisfactory  and 
insufficient." 

This  resolution  was  followed  by  an  order,  passed  also  unani- 
mously, "  that  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  do  attend  at  the  bar 
of  this  House  to-morrow."  On  the  day  following  he  appeared 
accordingly  in  custody,  at  the  bar,  and,  being  again  called 
upon  by  the  Speaker,  offered  a  few  words  of  explanation,  of 
which  no  report  has  been  preserved,  but  which  could  hardly 
have  been  of  a  very  penitential  nature,  as  on  the  question 
being  put  whether  the  House  should  receive  the  excuse, 
there  appeared  a  minority  of  no  less  than  55  against  accept- 
ing it. 

In  about  a  week  after  this  occurrence,  we  find  him  again 
standing  forth,  almost  singly,  against  government,  and  raising 
his  voice  in  reprobation  of  that  system  of  coercion  which  the 
new  aspect  of  affairs  abroad  was  now  emboldening  them  to 
adopt.  At  the  first  opening  of  the  session,  a  more  liberal 
spirit  had  seemed  to  pervade  their  councils.  The  prospect  of 
an  immediate  war  with  France,  still  more  formidable  from  the 
prevalence  of  her  principles  than  of  her  arms, — the  alliance 
rapidly  cementing  between  the  Dissenters  and  Catholics,  both 
victims  of  the  Church  Establishment,  and  the  latter,  outca.sts 
of  the  State, — the  commanding  attitude  assumed  by  the  dele- 
gates of  so  many  millions  in  Convention, — all  these  considera- 
tions had,  at  the  commencement  of  this  session  of  1793,  pro- 
duced suddenly,  on  the  part  of  the  government,  a  disposition 
towards  conciliation  and  justice,  which,  while  it  completely 
took  all  their  parhamentary  adherents  by  surprise,  was  yet 
seconded  by  these  ever  ready  instruments  with  a  degree  of 
docility  that  brought  discredit  alike  on  authority  and  its  sup- 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  109 

porters,  and  rendered  them  hardly  more  respectable  in  the 
right  than  in  the  wrong. 

What  had  occurred  too,  during  the  summer,  rendered  this 
sudden  conversion  of  the  ruling  party  still  more  startling. 
The  haughty  rejection  of  the  Catholic  prayer  in  the  preceding 
session  had  been  regarded  by  all  the  enemies  of  religious 
freedom  as  a  signal  for  the  indulgence  at  once  of  their  loyal 
and  intolerant  zeal.  In  the  course  of  the  summer  months,  the 
most  violent  declarations  had  been  issued  by  most  of  the 
Grand  Juries  and  Corporations,  denouncing  fiercely,  not  only 
the  religious,  but  the  moral  and  political  tenets  of  the  Catho- 
lics, and  proffering  prodigally  the  aid  of  their  own  lives  and 
fortunes  in  excluding  them  from  all  further  power.  At  more 
than  one  of  these  inflammatory  meetings  persons.high  in  official 
trust  assisted  ;  and  the  greater  number  of  them,  it  was  supposed, 
had  received  sanction  and  impulse  from  the  ruling  powers. 

Almost  in  the  very  face  of  this  movement,  with  that  blind 
recklessness  of  character  by  which  such  a  government  forfeits 
the  confidence  of  its  friends,  without,  in  the  least  degree,  con- 
ciliatiDg  the  good-will  of  its  opponents,  the  present  session 
opened  with  a  recommendation  to  parliament  to  take  into  its 
"  wise  and  liberal"  consideration  the  condition  of  his  majesty's 
Catholic  subjects.  The  measure  of  grace  was,  in  this  instance, 
represented  as  originating  in  the  bounty  of  the  Crown  ;  and  a 
deputation  from  that  lately  execrated  body,  the  Catholic  Con- 
vention, was  now  seen,  day  after  day,  amicably  closeted  with 
the  minister,  negotiating  for  their  admission  to  power  on  a  far 
wider  basis  than  that  from  which,  but  a  few  months  before, 
the  same  minister  had  so  contemptuously  dislodged  them. 

While  thus,  on  one  of  the  two  great  questions  that  agitated 
the  country,  some  symptoms  of  a  more  just  and  liberal  policy 
were  manifested,  on  the  other  no  less  vital  subject,  Parlia- 
mentary Reform,  an  admission  had  been,  for  the  first  time, 
made,  on  the  part  of  the  ruling  powers,  of  the  principle  and 
practicability  of  such  a  measure,  by  their  consenting  to  the 
appointment  of  a  Committee  to  inquire  into  the  state  of  the 
representation.'^ 

*  "  "Whence  does  all  this  benignity  flow  ? "  sai<l  Lord  Charlemont, 
in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Hardy  ; — "  I  doubt  much  whether  Mounsieur  Dumou- 
rier  ever  heard  of  a  Parliamentary  Reform,  and  yet  I  am  almost  tempt- 
ed to  suspect  him  of  having  some  share  in  what  is  now  going  forward." 


110  MEMOIRS    OF 

This  prospect  of  a  change  of  policy,  and  in  the  unexpected 
direction  of  tolerance  and  reform,  Avas  hailed  by  all  friends  of 
their  country  with  a  degree  of  satisfaction  and  hope  which 
unfortunately  was  allowed  but  a  short  period  of  indulgence. 
The  star  of  French  freedom  had,  about  this  time,  begun  to 
darken,  and,  as  it  was  thought,  decline  in  its  course.  The 
execution  of  the  King,  the  chiily  increasing  excesses  of  the 
Jacobins,  and  the  state  of  moral  as  well  as  political  disorgani- 
zation into  which  all  France  seemed  sinkinu',  had  besi-un  to 
bring  odium  upon  the  theories  ot  the  youtliful  Republic,  while 
her  present  reverses  in  Flanders  were  dissolving  fast  the  spell 
of  her  arms  ;  and  the  effect  of  both  these  causes  combined,  at 
the  period  of  which  we  are  speaking,  was  to  produce  a  re- 
action in  favour  of  ancient  institutions  throughout  Europe,  of 
which  Legitimate  Power,  tottering  as  he  had  been  from  his 
base,  in  all  quarters,  was  now  hastening  to  take  advantage, 
for  the  recovery  of  his  balance. 

In  Ireland,  where  but  little  encouragement  Avas  ever  want- 
ing to  induce  its  rulers  to  persevere  in,  or  return  to,  old  abuses, 
the  eff'ects  of  this  brightening  up  of  the  cause  of  Thrones  were 
instantly  perceptible.  Thongh  it  was  now  too  late  to  retract 
the  promised  boon  to  the  Catholics,  the  favour  could  be,  at 
least,  they  knew,  "  shorn  of  its  beams  ;"  and,  instead  of  con- 
sidering any  longer  how  much  might  be  accorded  with  gra- 
ciousncss,  the  minister  now  only  calculated  how  much  could  be 
withheld  with  safety.  The  glimpse  of  Reform,  too,  that,  had 
been  so  reluctantly  held  forth  was  withdrawn,  and  a  course  of 
coercive  and  inquisitorial  measures  forthwith  entered  upon, 
which,  like  all  such  legislation,  gendered  of  injustice  and  fear, 
but  provoked  those  very  evils  of  which  they  professed  to  bo 
the  cure. 

To  the  severe  acts  passed  this  session,  the  fore-rnnners,  as 
it  was  found,  of  others  still  severer,  the  opposition  party  in 
parliament  afforded,  it  must  be  owned,  too  ready  a  sanction  ; 
— partly,  at  first,  from  complaisance  to  a  government  which 
they  thought  inclined  to  do  right,  and  partly,  afterwards,  from 
fear  of  a  people  whom  they  saw  goaded  into  doing  wrong. 
Even  Mr.  Grattan  himself  but  faintly,  if  at  all,  opposed  a 
measure*  Avhich,  a  few  years   after,  in  a  Petition  from  the 

*  The  Gunpowder  Bill. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  Ill 

"Whig  Club,  attributed  to  his  pen,  he  thus  strongly  character- 
ized. "They  then  proceeded,"  he  says,  speaking  of  tiie  gov- 
ernment of  this  period,  "  to  a  system  of  coercion  to  support 
their  corruption,  and  to  dragoon  the  people,  as  they  had 
bpught  the  parliament.  They  began  that  system  by  an  act 
which  tended,  in  a  qualified  manner,  to  disarm  his  majesty's 
subjects,  under  certain  regulations,  named  a  Gunpowder  Bill, 
and  which  had  principally  in  view  to  put  down  the  Irish 
Volunteers  ;  and,  to  check  the  discontent  which  grew  from 
this  measure,  further  measures  of  violence,  and  new  causes  of 
discontent,  were  resorted  to." 

It  was  on  the  discussion  of  the  act  here  specified,  the  Gun- 
powder Bill,  that  Lord  Edward,  as  I  have  already  intimated, 
stood  forth,  almost  alone,  against  the  government,  condemn- 
ing, particularly,  the  clause  imposing  penalties  on  the  removal 
of  arms  from  one  place  to  another,  and  pronouncing  the  whole 
bill  to  be,  from  beginning  to  end,  a  penal  law. 

The  Convention  Bill,  another  of  the  coercive  acts  of  this 
session,  the  sole  effect  of  which  was,  by  producing  still  deeper 
discontent,  to  render  measures  of  still  more  searching  severity 
necessary,  was,  it  is  true,  combated,  with  his  usual  vigour,  by 
Mr.  Grattan,  in  every  stage.*  Bat  he  found  but  feeble  sup- 
port from  the  remainder  of  his  party.  Only  three  Lords,  the 
Duke  of  Leinster,  the  Earl  of  Charlemont,  and  the  Earl  of 
Arran,  voted  against  the  bill  in  the  House  of  Peers,  while 
Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  and  Mr.  Grattan  formed  part  of  a 
minority  of  but  27  to  128,  that  recorded  their  reprobation  of 
it  in  the  House  of  Commons. 

I  shall  now  give  >some  letters  written  by  his  lordship  in  the 
course  of  this  and  the  succeeding  year. 

"  April,  1793. 
"  DEAREST  MOTHER, 

"  I  have  been  very  idle,  and  so  has  my  dear  little  wife  ; 
but  I  hope  you  will  forgive  us, — she  is  afraid  you  are  angry 
with  her.  The  truth  is,  the  sitting  up  so  late  has  made  us 
late  in  the  morning,  and  we  get  on  so  agreeably,  and  chatter 
so  much  in  the  morning,  that  the  day  is  over  before  we  know 

*  "This  bill,  sir,"  said  that  great  man,  "I  pronounce  to  be  the 
boldest  step  that  was  ever  j-et  made  towards  introducing  a  mihtary 
government." 


112  MEMOIRS    OF 

where  we  are.  Dublin  lias  been  very  gay, — a  great  number 
of  balls,  of  which  the  lady  misses  none.  Dancing  is  a  great 
passion  with  her  :  I  wish  you  could  see  her  dance,  you  would 
delight  in  it,  she  dances  so  with  all  her  heart  and  soul.  Every 
body  seems  to  like  her,  and  behave  civily  and  kindly  to  her. 
There  was  a  kind  of  something  about  visiting  Lady  Leitrim, 
but  it  is  all  over  now.  We  dined  there  on  Sunday,  and  she 
was  quite  pleasant,  and  Pamela  likes  her  very  much. 

"  We  have  not  been  able  yet  to  go  to  Castletown,  to  stay, 
but  intend  going  there  next  week.  I  had  one  very  pleasant 
day  with  dear  aunt  Louisa,  and  had  a  long  talk  about  you, 
which  was  not  the  least  pleasant  part  of  it.  We  have  been 
four  or  five  times  to  Frescati  ;  but  the  weather  has  been  too 
cold  to  enjoy  it  well  :  you  know  what  a  difference  that  makes 
in  every  thing  with  me.  Pray  tell  Ogilvie  I  have  deferred 
speaking  to  Byrne  till  the  spring  was  a  little  more  advanc- 
ed, to  show  it  in  beauty  to  him.  If  the  weather  comes  mild  I 
shall  go  and  stay  there,  for  I  long  for  a  little  country  and  a 
little  fine  weather. 

"  There  is  nothing  going  on  in  the  House,  and  I  believe 
our  Reform  will  not  take  us  long,  so  that  I  suppose  Dublin 
will  soon  be  empty.  I  find  by  your  letter  that  people  are  as 
violent  about  politics  in  London  as  they  are  here,  which  is 
l^retty  well.  My  differing  so  much  in  opinion  with  the  people 
that  one  is  unavoidably  obliged  to  live  with  here,  does  not 
add  much,  you  may  guess,  to  the  agreeableuess  of  Dublin 
society.  But  I  have  followed  my  dear  mother's  advice,  and 
do  talk  much  on  the  subject,  and  when  I  do,  am  very  cool. 
It  certainly  is  the  best  way  ;  but  all  my  prudence  does  not 
hinder  all  sorts  of  stories  being  made  about  my  wife  and  me, 
some  of  which  I  am  afraid,  have  frightened  yon,  dearest 
mother.  It  is  rather  hard  that  when,  with  a  wish  to  avoid 
disputing,  one  sees  and  talks  only  to  a  few  people,  of  one's 
own  way  of  thinking,  we  are,  at  once,  all  set  down  as  a  nest 
of  traitors.  From  what  you  know  of  me,  you  may  guess  all 
this  has  not  much  changed  my  opinions  ;  but  I  keep  very 
quiet,  do  not  go  out  much,  except  to  see  my  wife  dance,  and, 
— in  short,  keep  my  breath  to  cool  my  porridge. 

"  Your  affectionate  son, 

"E.  F." 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  113 

"  Frescati,  April  27th,  1*793. 

"  Ogilvie  will  have  glorious  weather  for  his  journey  ;  I 
shall  be  delighted  to  see  him  ;  he  does  quite  right  to  come  : 
I  believe  Lord  W  *  *  only  waits  to  see  him  to  settle  about 
Frescati.  Mrs.  S  *  * ,  whom  I  saw  yesterday,  told  me  he 
was  now  determined  on  taking  it.  He  has  been  shilH-shally 
about  it  lately,  but  is  now  fixed  ;  this  makes  me,  at  last,  look 
about  me.  I  have  heard  of  a  place  in  the  county  of  "\Yick- 
low  which  I  think  will  do  for  me  ;  a  Mr.  Magennis  had  it, 
and  the  description  he  gives  of  it  is  delightful  . — in  a  beauti- 
ful country  between  Wicklow  and  Arklow,  a  small  house  with 
forty  acres  of  land,  some  trees  upon  it  near  the  sea-side,  ever- 
greens the  most  beautiful  growing  among  the  rocks,  the  rent 
£90  a  year.  We  are  going  to  see  that  and  some  otiier  places 
that  are  to  be  set  to-morrow.  We  go  to  iS'ewbridge,  twenty- 
six  miles  from  this,  and  mean  to  stay  theie  three  days  to  look 
about  us. 

"  I  have  heard  a  beautiful  description  of  that  part  of  the 
county  of  Wicklow,  and  every  thing  sets  cheaper  than  about 
the  parts  we  know.  I  think  I  shall  hke  any  thing  in  the 
county  of  Wicklow  better  than  Leinster  Lodge  or  Kildare, 
the  country  is  so  much  more  beautiful  ;  and  when  one  is  to 
settle,  w4iy  not  choose  a  pretty  spot  and  pretty  country  ?  I 
think  it  is  worth  while  paying  a  little  more  rent,  and,  if  neces- 
sary, curtailing  in  other  things,  as  in  servants  or  houses.  I 
own  also  I  hke  not  to  be  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  *  the  county 
of  Kildare  member,'  &c.  &c. — to  be  bored  with  '  this  one  is 
vour  brother's  friend,' — '  that  man  voted  aQ:ainst  him,'  &c. 
In  short,  by  what  I  hear  of  this  place,  I  shall  be  very  quiet, 
— not  a  gentleman  nearer  me  than  six  miles,  except  a  young 
Mr.  Tighe,  whom  I  like. 

"  I  am  a  little  ashamed  when  I  reason  and  say  to  myself 
*  Leinster  Lodge  would  be  the  most  profitable.  Ninety  per- 
sons of  one  hundred  would  choose  it,  and  be  delighted  to  get 
it.'  It  is,  to  be  sure,  in  a  good  country  ;  plentiful,  affords 
every  thing  a  person  wants,  but  it  has  not  mountains  and 
rocks,  and  /  do  like  mountains  and  rocks,  and  pretty  views,  and 
pretty  hedges,  and  pretty  cabins, — ay,  and  a  pleasanter  people. 
In  short,  I  shall  certainly,  I  think,  fix  on  the  Wicklow  place ; 
— that  is,  if  I  like  it.  If  not,  I  shall  take  some  place  that  is 
to  be  let  for  the  summer,  or  by  the  month,  to  go  to  from  here. 


114  MEMOIRS    OF 

"  Poor  Frescati  !  I  shall  be  sorry  to  leave  it.  I  look  at 
all  the  trees  and  places  with  regret.  I  hope,  however,  to  sec 
every  thing  blossom  before  I  go  ;  for  two  or  three  days  more 
will  bring  all  the  lilacs  completely.  My  dear  little  wife  is 
well — goes  on  delightfully.  I  never  saw  her  look  so  well  : 
she  grows  both  broad  and  long.  Indeed,  she  has  quite  taken 
a  fit  of  growing." 


"  DEAREST    MOTHER, 


"Frescati,  May  6th,  1793. 


"  Wife  and  I  are  come  to  settle  here.  We  came  last  night, 
got  up  to  a  delightful  spring  day,  and  are  now  enjoying  the 
little  book-room,  with  the  windows  open,  hearing  the  birds 
sing,  and  the  place  looking  beautiful.  The  plants  in  the  pas- 
sage are  just  watered  :  and,  with  the  passage  door  open,  the 
room  smells  like  a  green-house.  Pamela  has  dressed  foui' 
beautiful  flower-pots,  and  is  now  working  at  her  frame,  while 
I  write  to  my  dearest  mother  ;  and  upon  the  two  little  stands 
there  are  six  pots  of  fine  auriculas,  and  I  am  sitting  in  the  bay 
window,  with  all  those  pleasant  feelhigs  which  the  fine  weath- 
er, the  pretty  place,  the  singing  birds,  the  pretty  Avife,  and 
Frescati  gives  me, — with  your  last  dear  letter  to  my  wife  be- 
fore me  : — so  you  may  judge  how  I  love  you  at  this  moment. 
Yes,  dearest  mother,  I  am  delighted  at  the  Malvern  party, 
and  am  determined  to  meet  you  there,  or  wherever  you  are. 
I  dote  on  being  with  you  any  where,  but  particularly  in  the 
country,  as  I  think  we  always  enjoy  one  another's  company 
there  more  than  in  town.  I  long  for  a  little  walk  with  you, 
leaning  on  me, — or  to  have  a  long  talk  with  you,  sitting  out 
in  some  pretty  spot,  of  a  fine  day,  with  your  long  cane  in  your 
hand,  working  at  some  httle  weed  at  your  feet,  and  looking 
down,  talking  all  the  time.  I  won't  go  on  in  this  way,  for  I 
should  want  to  set  out  directly,  and  that  cannot  be,  so  I  shall 
give  you  some  account  of  what  we  have  been  doing.  We 
were  here  a  fortnight  with  the  Henries,  and  were  very  pleas- 
ant :  we 

"  May  8th. — My  dearest,  I  was  stopped  in  my  letter  by 
my  dear  wife  being  taken  very  ill  ;  she  is  now  much  better, 
and  is  going  on  as  well  as  possible.  She  has  not  kept  her 
bed,  by  the  doctor's  advice,  but  lies  on  the  couch  in  the  book- 
room.     I  was  frightened  a  good  deal  the  first  day  at  her 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD,  ll5 

great  weakness,  but  she  is  much  stronger  to-day,  and  I  feel 
quite  comfortable  about  her.  Emily  says  she  will  write  to 
you,  and  tell  you  every  thing  about  her  better  than  me.  We 
have  luckily  had  two  of  the  finest  days  that  ever  were,  so  we 
have  all  the  windows  open.  Xot  to  be  far  from  her,  I  am 
amusing  myself  dressing  the  little  beds  about  the  house,  and 
have  had  the  little  green  full  mowed  and  rolled  ;  the  little 
mound  of  earth  that  is  round  the  bays  and  myrtle  before  the 
house,  I  have  planted  with  tufts  of  gentianellas  and  primroses, 
and  lily  of  the  valley,  and  they  look  iDcautiful,  peeping  out  of  the 
dark  everorreen  :  close  to  the  root  of  the  ijreat  elm  I  have 
put  a  patch  of  lily  of  the  valley.  I  have  got  the  beds  well 
dressed,  and  the  whole  thing  looks  beautiful,  and  I  mean  to 
keep  it  as  neat  as  possible  while  here  :  in  short,  dearest  moth- 
er, at  this  moment  I  only  want  you  here,  and  little  wife  well ; 
for,  in  the  midst  of  the  feelings  of  the  fine  weather,  I  want 
her  to  enjoy  them  with  me. 

"  Pray,  when  shall  you  be  at  Malvern  ?  I  shall  wish  to 
give  her  a  month  or  three  weeks'  sea-bathing  ; — so  I  expect 
to  be  ready  to  meet  you  in  the  beginning  or  middle  of  June. 
Emily,  who  is  here,  says  the  Henries  set  out  on  Sunday  :  we 
shall  miss  them  terribly.  Lady  H.  has  been  kinder  than  I 
can  say  about  my  wife, — every  thing  I  could  wish, — and  that 
is  saying  a  great  deal. 

"  Give  my  love  to  all  the  dear  girls  and  Ogilvie  ;  tell  them 
I  long  to  see  them.  I  hope  dear  Ciss  is  quite  well,  and  takes 
good  long  rides.  I  know  she  dotes  on  a  fine  spring  ride.  I 
was  in  hopes  Pamela  would  have  been  able  to  ride  with  her, 
when  we  met  ;  but  I  am  afraid  we  must  give  that  up.  Tell 
her  we  got  the  bracelets,  and  thank  her  very  much.  Pamela 
is  as  bad  about  writing  as  me, — but  I  will  make  one  excuse, 
— she  has,  of  late,  had  no  time,  for  I  have  kept  her  out  all 
day,  and  took  up  her  time  to  dissipate  her,  and  prevent  her 
thinking  on,  and  vexing  herself  about,  all  these  French  affairs, 
which  have  distressed  her  very  much.  Good  bye,  dearest 
mother,  I  have  said  all  my  say, — so  bless  you  a  thousand 
times.     The  dear  little,  pale,  pretty  wife  sends  her  love  to  you. 

"  Your 

"  Edward." 


116  MEMOIRS   OF 

♦'  Frescati,  June  11,  1793. 
"dfarest  mother, 

"  We  returned  here  vesterdav  from  Castletown,  where  we 
had  been  a  week.  We  had  promised  to  go  there  a  long  time, 
but  could  not  prevail  on  ourselves  to  leave  this  sweet  place, 
where  we  are  so  comfortable.  However,  we  at  last  took  a 
good  resolution,  and  when  once  there,  passed  a  very  pleasant 
week  ;  but  were  delighted  to  return  here  yesterday  evening, 
and  enjoy  this  place,  which  is  now  in  perfection.  All  the 
shrubs  are  out,  lilac,  laburnum,  syringa,  spring  roses,  and  lily 
of  the  valley  in  quantities,  four  pots  full  now  in  the  book- 
room, — in  short,  the  whole  thing  is  heavenly.  I  believe  there 
never  was  a  person  who  understood  planting  and  making  a 
place  as  you  do.  The  more  one  sees  Carton  and  this  place, 
the  more  one  admires  them  ;  the  mixture  of  plants  and  the 
succession  of  them  are  so  well  arranged.  We  went  to  the 
cottage  from  Castletown  ;  it  is  in  high  beauty,  in  spite  of 
neglect  and  contrivance  to  spoil  it.  The  Leinsters  are  all  in 
the  country  settled,  and  intend  to  enjoy  it,  they  say.  We 
shall  pay  them  a  visit  after  my  wife  has  had  a  fortnight's 
bathing. 

"  Our  Parliament  did  business  yesterday.  What  is  to  be 
done  was  partly  told  us, — a  new  arrangement  of  the  revenues, 
a  pension  bill  and  a  place  bill, — but  the  sums  not  mentioned. 
I  am  fraid  we  shall  have  only  form,  not  substance  ;  no  saving 
of  expense,  no  abolition  of  places,  and  a  great  increase  of 
taxes.  Ogilvie  will  explain  it  all  to  you,  if  you  wish  to  know 
it.  What  is  to  be  done,  though,  will,  I  believe,  take  a  good 
deal  of  time.  I  do  not  think  we  shall  be  up  these  six  weeks, 
which  I  am  vexed  at,  as  it  will  delay  us  seeing  you,  dear,  dear 
mother  ; — but  we  shall  enjoy  Frescati.  I  wish  Ogilvie  was 
here  now,  and  in  parliament  ;  he  would  be  of  use.  I  think 
we  shall  be  bamboozled  or  deceived  in  this  arrangement.  I 
do  not  think  our  people  understand  well  what  they  are  about. 
Tell  Ogilvie  how  much  I  thank  him  for  subscribing  for  me  to 
Charles  Fox's  business  ;  I  will  pay  him  the  half  of  it  this 
June." 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  lit 

"Dublin,  Saturday,  27th  December,  1793. 
"  We  arrived  here  last  night,*  after  a  good  passage  of 
thirty-nine  hours,  all  well,  and  not  much  tired.  "We  intend  to 
go  to  Carton  to-morrow,  stay  a  day  there,  and  go  from  thence 
to  Castletown.  Our  journey  was  pleasant  enough,  the  weath- 
er favourable.  We  eat  your  pie  on  board  ship, — it  was  excel- 
lent. I  am  not  yet  accustomed  to  be  away  from  you,  and 
think  of  dear  Malvern  with  great  regret, — so  cheerful  and  so 
pleasant.  After  I  got  into  the  carriage,  I  recollected  I  had 
not  bid  Ogilvie  good  bye.  I  hope  he  saw  that  it  was  from 
my  hurry  to  get  the  parting  over,  and  not  from  being  careless 
about  leaving  him  ;  for  really  I  was  very  sorry,  and  must  have 
been  very  ungrateful  if  I  had  not,  for  he  was  as  pleasant  and 
kind  as  possible  to  me  and  my  wife  the  whole  time  ;  but  I 
was  vexed  with  myself  that  my  hurry  should  have  given  me 
an  appearance  of  neglect,  where  my  heart  spoke  directly  con- 
trary.    God  bless  you,  dear,  dear  mother,  and  believe  me, 

"  Your  affectionate,  &c." 

"  Dublin,  Jan.  23,  1794. 

"  I  beg  pardon  for  putting  off  answering  your  two  dear  let- 
ters so  long,  but  the  hurry  of  Castletown  (what  with  balls,  and 
hunting,  and  sitting  after  dinner),  took  up  all  one's  time.  We 
left  Castletown  last  Monday,  to  make  our  Carton  visit,  where 
we  stay  till  next  week,  and  then  go  to  Frescati,  the  quiet  of 
which  I  long  for.  I  assure  you  I  often  regret  our  dear  quiet 
Malvern,  and  no  party  will  ever  be  so  pleasant  to  me.  My 
dear  little  wife  has,  upon  the  whole,  been  cheerful  and  amused, 
'which  of  course  pleases  me.  I  never  have  received  an  answer 
from  her  mother,  so  that  Pamela  is  still  ignorant  of  what  has 
happened. 

"  Politics  do  not  go  on  well,  I  think.  The  leaders  of 
Opposition  are  afraid  of  the  people,  and  distrasted  by  them  of 
course.  Leinster  really  is  the  only  man  who  seems  fair  and 
honest,  and  not  frightened  ;  but  as  he  sees  himself  not  sui> 
ported  by  the  rest  of  the  party,  and  does  not  approve  of  their 
ways  of  thinking,  he  means  to  keep  quiet,  and  entirely  out  of 
the  business.      ConoUy  is  the  sume  as    usual, — both  ways  : 

*  His  Lordship  and  Lady  Edward  had  been  passing  some  time  with 
the  Dutchess  of  Leinster  at  Malvern. 


118  MEMOIRS    OF 

but  determined  not  to  support  government.  His  militia  has 
frightened  him  :  he  swears  they  are  all  republicans,  as  well  as 
every  man  in  the  North.  He  concludes  all  his  speeches  by 
cursing  presbyterians  :  he  means  well  and  honestly,  dear 
fellow,  but  his  line  of  proceeding  is  wrong.  Grattan  I  can 
make  nothing  of.  His  speech  last  night  on  the  Address  was 
very  bad,  and  the  worst  doctrine  ever  laid  down,*  viz.  that 
this  country  is  bound,  right  or  wrong,  without  inquiry,  to  sup- 
port England  in  any  war  she  may  undertake.  There  was  no 
division  on  the  Address,  but  I  believe  there  will  be  something 
done  to-night.  If  there  is  not,  I  shall  not  go  to  Parliament 
again  during  the  session.  It  is  in  vain  to  look  to  that  quarter 
for  any  thing  ;  and  if  the  people  don't  help  themselves,  why, 
they  must  suffer.  There  is  not  a  person  that  doesn't  abuse 
this  war,  yet  no  man  will  take  measures  to  stop  it.  It  will 
stop  itself  at  last,  but  I  am  afraid  with  very  bad  consequences. 

"  I  won't  bore  you  any  more  about  our  politics  :  you  may 
see  I  am  not  in  great  good  humour  about  them.  If  we  do 
anything  to-night  to  support  Charles  Fox  and  his  friends 
against  the  war,  I  shall  be  in  better  humour.  I  own  altogether 
I  am  greatly  provoked  at  them  all,  when  I  see  every  man 
acting  in  the  very  manner  calculated  to  bring  on  those  ills  they 
say  they  are  so  afraid  of  ; — but  no  more  on  this  subject. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  Aunt  Louisa  wrote  you  word  that 
Conolly  wants  to  give  me  his  lodge  at  Kildare,  all  furnished  and 
ready.  However,  I  don't  think  I  shall  take  it  :  indeed  I  am 
determined  not ; — it  is  too  much  to  accept  as  a  present  :  but 
I  have  some  thoughts  of  borrowing  it  for  next  summer,  trying 
if  I  like  it,  and  if  it  will  suit  me,  I  will  then  take  it  off  his' 
hands,  and  pay  him  what  it  is  worth.  I  understand  it  is  worth 
about  i3300  as  it  stands,  furniture  and  all.  The  situation 
certainly  is  advantageous  for  me  : — six  miles  from  Kilrush, 
across  the  Curragh  ;  not  too  large,  and  the  country  round 
pleasant.  If  I  want  a  farm  I  can  have  one  on  my  own 
estate  :  if  I  don't  choose  to  undertake  a  farm,  and  wish  to 
leave  the  country  for  any  time,  the  place  is  so  small  that  it  can 
be  taken  care  of  by  one  person,  at  little  expense.  I  think  I 
may  try  it  for  some  time. 

*  In  his  war  politics,  Mr.  Grattan  was  at  least  consistent,  thalast 
speech  he  ever  made  having  been  in  favour  of  the  war  with  France  in 
1816. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  119 

"  I  own  that,  thouirh  I  feel  so  mucli  inclination  to  settle 
qnietly  and  turn  farmer,  I  dread  any  thing  that  would  obliore 
me  to  stay  lono-  fi'om  my  dearest  mother,  which  a  great  farm 
might  do, — unless  1  had  somebody  whom  I  could  depend  on 
to  look  after  it  while  I  am  nway.  If  one  pays  attention  to  it,  I 
understand  by  all  I  hear,  that  a  grass  farm  is  certainly  a  pro- 
fitable thing.  Now  I  think  by  taking  ConoUy's  place  for  a  year 
or  so,  and  my  farm  on  my  own  estate,  which  only  pays  me  £14 
a  year,  I  may  try  my  hand  safely,  and  not  risk  much  when  I 
leave  it  ;  and  perhaps,  in  the  course  of  carrying  it  on,  find 
somebody  I  could  trust  to  manage  my  business  while  away.  I 
am  constantly  turning  all  this  over  and  over  in  my  head,  and 
have  time  to  consider,  as  Leinster  Lodge  cannot  be  had  till 
November,  and  I  shall  in  the  meantime  enjoy  dear  Frescati. 
I  shall  take  a  turn  from  there  in  April,  and  show  my  wife  the 
two  places.  She  at  present  inclines  to  the  small  house,  as  I  do 
myself.  I  do  like  a  small  place  so  much  better  than  a  large 
one." 

"Freseati,  Feb.  6th,  1764 
'*  I  have  got  an  under-gardener  (myself)  to  prepare  some 
spots  for  flowers,  and  to  help  Tim.  I  have  been  hard  at  work 
to-day  and  part  of  yesterday  (]iy  the  by  weather  so  hot,  I  go 
without  coat,  and  the  birds  singing  like  spring),  cleaning  the 
little  corner  to  the  right  of  the  house,  digging  round  roots  of 
trees,  raking  ground,  and  planting  thirteen  two-year  old 
laurels  and  Portugal  laurels.  I  have  also  trimmed  the  rose 
trees.  The  flowers  and  shrubs  had  all  got  out  of  the  little 
green  palling  ; — I  am  now  putting  them  inside,  and  mean  only 
to  have  a  border  of  primroses  and  polyanthus  outside,  if  I  have 
any.  I  mean  from  thence  to  go  to  the  rosery,  and  then  to  the 
little  new  planted  corners.  I  am  to  have  hyacinths,  jonquils, 
pinks,  cloves,  narcissuses,  &c.  in  little  beds  before  the  house,  and 
in  the  rosery.  Some  parts  of  the  long  round  require  a  great 
deal  of  pruning,  and  trees  to  be  cut  ;  if  you  trust  me,  I  think 
I  could  do  it  prudently,  and  have  the  wood  laid  by.  There 
are  numbers  of  trees  quite  spoiling  one  another. 

"  God  bless  you,  dear  mother,  I  am  now  going  to  make  my 
gardener  work,  for  he  does  nothing  if  I  am  not  with  him. 
Pamela  sends  you  her  love  :  hers  and  mine  to  all  the  rest. 
Bless  you  all  :  this  is  too  fine  a  day  to  stay  longer  writing.     I 


120  MEMOIRS    OF 

wish  to  God  you  were  here.  If  you  want  any  thuig  done  tell 
me  ;  if  you  hko  what  I  am  doinp:,  tell  me  ;  if  you  like  the  part 
of  the  house  we  have  taken,  tell  me," 

"Fi-eseati,  Feb.  lOtli,  179-1. 

yfz  0f%  ?K  *f«  #f«  ?i^ 

"  I  live  here  constantly.     Pam  has  not  been  in  to\\ni  since 

we  came.     She  goes  to  the  manutacturer's  ball  on  Friday. 

She  is  quite  well,  eats,   drinks,  and  slee})s  well  ;  she  works  a 

great  deal,  and  I  read  to  her.     I  have  left  oft*  gardening,  for  I 

hated  that  all  my  troubles  should  go  for  that  vile  Lord  W**, 

and  my  flowers  to  be  for  aides-de-camp,  chaplains,  and  all  such 

followers  of  a  lord-lieutenant.*" 

****** 

Kildare,  June  23cl,  179-1, 
"dearest  mother, 

"  I  write  to  you  in  the  middle  of  settling  and  arranging  my 
little  family  here.f  But  the  day  is  fine, — the  spot  look? 
pretty,  quiet,  and  comfortable  ; — I  feel  }ileasant,  contented,  and 
happy,  and  all  these  feelings  and  siglits  never  come  across  me 
without  brino-iuo-  dearest,  dearest  mother  to  mv  lieart's  recol- 
lection.  1  am  sure  vou  understand  these  feeliuirs,  dear  mother. 
How  you  would  like  this  little  spot  !  it  is  the  smallest  thing 
imaginable,  and  to  numbers  would  have  no  beauty  ;  but  there 
is  a  comfort  and  moderation  in  it  that  delights  me.  I  don't 
know  1  can  describe  it  to  you,  but  I  will  try. 

"  After  going  up  a  little  lane,  and  in  at  a  close  gate,  you 
come  on  a  little  white  house,  with  a  small  gravel  court  before 
it.  You  see  but  three  small  windows,  the  court  surrounded  by 
larffe  old  elms  :  one  side  of  the  liouse  covered  with  shrubs,  on 
the  other  side  a  tolerable  large  ash  ;  upon  the  stairs  going  up 
to  the  house,  two  wicker  cages,  in  which  there  are  at  this  mo- 
ment two  thrushes,  singing  a  gorge  dc.ployee.  In  coming  into 
the  house,  you  tind  a  small  passage  hall,  very  clean,  the  floor 
tiled  ;  upon  your  left,  a  small  room  ;  on  the  right,  the  stair- 

*  Lord  Westmoreland  the  nobleman  here  alluded  to  had,  at  this 
time,  some  idea  of  taking  Freseati. 

\  Mr.  Couolly's  Lodge  in  the  town  of  Kildare,  to  which  his  lurd- 
fihip  had  now  removed. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  121 

case.  In  front  you  come  into  the  parlour,  a  good  room,  with 
a  how  window  loolting  into  the  garden,  which  Is  a  small  green 
plot  surrounded  by  good  trees,  and  in  it  three  of  the  finest 
thorns  I  ever  saw,  and  all  the  trees  so  placed  that  you  may 
«:hade  vourself  from  the  sun  all  hours  of  the  dav  ;  the  how 
window,  covered  with  honeysuckle,  and  up  to  the  wuidow  some 
roses. 

"  Going  up  stairs  you  find  another  bow-room,  the  honey- 
Buckle  is  almost  up  to  it,  and  a  little  room  the  same  size  as 
that  below  ;  this,  with  a  kitchen  or  servants'  hall  Vjelow,  is 
the  whole  house.  There  is,  on  the  left,  in  the  court-yard, 
another  building  which  makes  a  kitchen  ;  it  is  covered  by 
trees,  so  as  to  look  pretty  ;  at  the  back  of  it,  there  is  a  yard, 
&c,  which  looks  into  a  lane.  On  the  side  of  the  house  oppo- 
site the  grass  plot,  there  is  ground  enough  for  a  flower-garden, 
communicating  with  the  front  garden  by  a  little  walk, 

"  The  whole  place  is  situated  on  a  kind  of  rampart,  of  a 
circular  form,  surrounded  by  a  wall  ;  which  wall,  towards  the 
village  and  lane,  is  high,  but  covered  with  trees  and  shrubs  ; — 
the  trees  old  and  large,  giving  a  great  deal  of  shade.  To- 
wards the  countrv  iha  wall  is  not  hiffher  than  vour  knee,  and 
this  covered  with  bushes  :  from  these  open  parts  you  have  a 
view  of  a  pretty  cultivated  country,  till  your  eye  is  stopped  by 
the  Curragh.  From  our  place  there  is  a  back  way  to  these 
fields,  so  as  to  go  out  and  walk,  without  having  to  do  with  the 
town. 

"  This,  dearest  mother,  is  the  spot  as  well  as  I  can  give  it  to 
yon,  but  it  don't  describe  well  ;*  one  must  see  it  and  feel  it ; 
it  is  all  the  little  peeps  and  ideas  that  go  with  it  that  make  the 
beauty  of  it  to  me.  My  dear  wife  dotes  on  it,  and  becomes 
it.  She  is  busy  in  her  little  American  jacket,  planting  sweet 
peas  and  mignonette.  Her  table  and  work-box,  with  the  little 
one's  caps,  are  on  the  table.  I  wish  my  dearest  mother  was 
here,  and  the  scene  to  me  would  be  complete, 

"  I  will  now  answer  some  of  your  dear  letters. 

****** 

Pam  is  as  well  as  possible,  better  than  ever  ;  the  only  incon- 

*  I  paid  a  visit  to  this  spot  some  month;  since,  and  cotild  trace  only 
a  few  of  the  general  features  here  described.  Of  the  Ixxlge  its^-lf  there 
are  no  remains,  and  the  whole  place  is  in  a  state  of  de5olatic:i. 


122  MEMOIRS    OF 

venience  she  finds  is  great  fulness,  for  which  she  was  bled  this 
morning:,  and  it  "has  done  her  a  great  deal  of  good.  I  can't 
tell  you  how  delighted  she  was  with  your  cliina,  and  how  it  adds 
to  the  little  menage;  it  is  beautiful,  and  your  dear  way  of 
buying  and  giving  it  goes  to  my  heart.  What  would  I  give  to 
have  you  here  drinking  tea  out  of  it  !  Ogilvie  flattered  us 
with  the  prospect  the  last  day  we  dined  with  him.  If  you  do 
not  come,  we  will  go  to  you,  when  you  think  Pamela  will  bear 
it.  I  don't  know  how  nursing  and  travelling  do,  but  I  should 
think,  if  the  child  should  prove  strong,  it  won't  mind  it. 

"  Parting  with  poor  dear  Frescati  did  make  me  melancholy, 
as  well  as  the  idea  of  your  settling  away  from  us  ;  but,  cer- 
tainly, there  are  good  reasons  for  it.  If  you  can  once  recover 
your  money  for  Frescati,  it  will  be  a  great  object,  and  not  be 
missed  ;  and  then,  after  parting  with  it,  I  don't  think  you 
would  like  Ireland.  I  have  tired  you  by  this  long  scrawl. 
I  have  not  said  half  I  feel,  for  it  is  one  of  those  delightful 
days  when  one  thinks  and  feels  more  than  one  can  say  or 
write." 

"Kilclare,  July  19th,  1794. 

"  Thank  you  for  your  account  of  the  Henries.  I  had  read 
the  account  of  the  eruption  in  the  paper,  and  had  been  just 
saying  to  Pamela  how  lucky  they  were  to  be  near  Naples  at 
that  time,  not  thinking  they  had  been  in  danger.  I  suppose, 
now  the  danger  is  over,  they  are  glad  to  have  seen  it  ;  and  by 
the  public  accounts,  I  see  very  few  people  have  been  killed  or 
hurt, — not  so  many  as  in  a  trifling  skirmish  in  Flanders.  I  am 
glad  you  are  enjoying  yourself  at  Boyle  farm.  I  dare  say 
poor  Henry  thought  of  it  in  his  fright,  and  wished  himself 
there. 

"  I  have  not  stirred  from  this  place  since  we  came.  I  in- 
tend paying  a  visit  for  a  day  to  Castletown  or  Carton  next 
week.  We  have  been  busy  here  about  the  militia  ;  the  peo- 
ple do  not  like  it  much, — that  is,  the  common  people  and 
farmers, — and  even  though  Leinster  has  it,  they  do  not  tho- 
roughly come  into  it,  which  I  am  glad  of,  as  it  shows  they 
l)egin  not  be  entirely  led  by  names.  I  am  sure,  if  any  person 
else  had  taken  it,  it  could  not  have  been  raised  at  all.  It  has 
required  all  his  exertion  to  bring  the  people  into  it,  in  any 
manner,  and  they  are  not  at  all  cordial  to  it.     We  are  by  no 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  123 

means  so  eager  in  this  vile  war  as  the  people  in  England  ; 
and  if  it  is  not  soon  put  a  stop  to  in  England,  I  am  in  hopes 
we  shall  take  some  strong  measures  against  it  here.  Besides 
its  wickedness  and  injustice,  it  is  the  very  height  of  folly  and 
madness,  and  at  present  there  is  much  more  likelihood  of  the 
French  getting  to  Amsterdam  than  the  combined  armies  to 
Paris. 

"  I  hear  there  is  a  talk  of  a  change  here  in  the  ministry  ; 
but  I  do  not  know  any  thing  for  certain.  Leinster  comes 
here  to-day,  he  will  perhaps  know  something.  It  is  said  Pon- 
sonby  is  to  come  in,  and  that  there  is  to  be  a  total  removal 
of  all  the  old  set,  with  an  offer  to  all  the  Opposition.  When 
I  see  Leinster,  I  shall  soon  find  how  the  wind  sets  in  his  quar- 
ter. I  trust,  though,  that  he  will  be  stout,  and  have  nothing 
to  say  to  any  of  them.  I  know  if  he  goes  over,  I  shall  not 
go  with  him  ;  for  my  obstinacy  or  perseverance  grows  stronger 
every  day,  and  all  the  events  that  have  passed,  and  are  pass- 
ing, but  convince  me  more  and  more,  that  these  two  countries 
must  see  very  strong  changes,  and  cannot  come  to  good,  un- 
less they  do.  I  won't  bore  you  any  more  with  politics,  dear 
mother,  as  I  know  you  don't  like  them." 


"  1794. 


"  DEAREST   MOTHER, 


^n  ^^  ^^  T^  ^^  ^^ 

"  I  ought  to  thank  you  for  all  your  kind  thoughts  about 
us,  at  this  moment, — for  your  present  of  the  requisites,  which 
really  helped  us  a  great  deal,  and  which  you  were  quite  right 
supposing  we  had  not  thouglit  of.  Pam  is  going  on  as  well 
as  possible,  strong,  healthy,  and  in  good  spirits.  We  drive 
and  walk  every  day  :  she  never  thinks  of  what  is  to  come,  I 
believe,  or  if  she  does,  it  is  with  great  courage  ;  in  short,  I 
never  saw  her,  1  think,  in  such  good  spirits.  Seeing  her  thus 
makes  me  so,  and  I  feel  happy,  and  look  forward  with  good 
hope.  Thank  God  !  I  generally  see  all  things  in  the  best 
light. 

"  I  had  a  delightful  letter  from  the  girls  at  Hastings,  one 
of  the  best  letters  I  ever  read, — so  full  of  fun,  wit,  and  hu- 
mour, and  every  thing  so  well  told.  I  have  not  answered  it 
yet,  and  am  almost  afraid, — mine  must  be  so  stupid  :  for  I 
confess  Leinster  House  does  not  inspire  the  brightest  ideas. 


124  MEMOIRS    OF 

By  tlie  by,  what  a  melancholy  house  it  is  ;  you  can't  conceive 
how  much  it  appeared  so,  when  first  we  came  from  Kildare  ; 
but  it  is  going  off  a  little.  A  poor  country  housemaid  I 
brought  with  me  cried  for  two  days,  and  said  she  tliought  she 
was  in  a  prison.  Palm  and  I  amuse  ourselves  a  good  deal  by 
walking  about  the  streets,  which,  I  believe,  shocks  poor  ^  * 
a  little.     Poor  soul  !  she  is  sometimes  very  low. 

^i*  ^l'  ^^  ^1'  ^^ 

jjx  'j^  'T*  'T»  '^ 

"  My  little  place  will  be  charming  next  year  ;  this  last 
month  and  the  present  would  require  my  being  there  ;  but  I 
must  take  care  of  the  little  young  plant  that  is  coming,  which 
will  give  me  great  pleasure,  I  hope.  Believe  me,  dearest, 
best  mother,  your  affectionate 

"  Edward." 

"Dublin,  October  20,  1794. 

"  The  dear  wife  and  baby  go  on  as  well  as  possible,  I 
think  I  need  not  tell  you  how  happy  I  am  ;  it  is  a  dear  little 
thing,  and  very  pretty  now,  though  at  first  it  was  quite  the 
contrary.  I  did  not  write  to  you  the  first  night,  as  Emily  had 
done  so.  I  wrote  to  M®.  Sillery  that  night  and  to-day,  and 
shall  write  her  an  account  every  day  till  Pam  is  able  to  write 
herself  I  wish  I  could  show  the  baby  to  you  all — dear  mo- 
ther, how  you  would  love  it  !  Nothing  is  so  delightful  as  to 
see  it  in  its  dear  mother's  arms,  with  her  sweet  pale,  dehcate 
face,  and  the  pretty  look  she  gives  it. 

"  By  the  by,  dearest  mother,  I  suppose  you  won't  have  any 
objection  to  be  its  godmother,  though  I  own  I  feel  scrupulous, 
as  you  were  so  kind  to  her  about  her  lying-in  clothes  ;  and  I  do 
hate  taking  your  poor  guineas  for  such  foolish  nonsense  ;  but 
still  I  like,  as  there  are  such  things,  that  it  should  be  you. 
Charles  Fox  and  Leinster  are  to  be  the  godfathers.  Pray  ask 
Charles  Fox  if  he  has  any  objection  ?  Good  bye,  dear  moth- 
er. I  am  going  to  play  a  game  of  chess  :  there  is  a  Sir 
George  Shee  here  that  plays  very  well  :  he  and  I  play  a  good 
deal.     Bless  you,  dear  mammy.     Love  to  the  dear  girls. 

"  Yours,  &c." 

"  Dublin,  Nov.  4th,  1794. 
"  Thank  God  !  you  are  relieved  from  your  anxiety  for  our 
dear  Lucy.     She  has  had  a  bad  attack,  dear  soul  ;  but  I  hope 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  125 

now  she  will  soon  recover,  and  be  better  than  ever,  which  was 
the  case  after  that  fever  she  had  once  before  at  Boyle  farm. 
You  have  had  a  severe  time  of  it,  dear  mother,  but  I  hope 
now  you  will  be  repaid  by  seeing  her  recover. 

"I  am  sure  it  will  be  some  comfort  to  you  to  hear  that  my 
dear  wife  goes  on  charmingly  ;  a  most  excellent  nurse,  and  the 
little  boy  thriving.  I  do  not  see  much  likeness  in  him  to  any 
body  :  he  has  Pam's  chin,  the  eyes  blue,  but  not  like  either 
of  ours.  However,  at  present  one  cannot  say  much,  as  he 
does  not  open  them  much.  Pamela  is  to  drive  out  the  first 
fine  day,  and  in  two  or  three  days  after  that  we  go  to  Carton. 
Little  St.  George  and  Edward  are  to  be  christened  at  the  same 
time.  Thank  you  for  standing  godmother.  How  I  long  to 
show  you  the  little  fellow  !  and  how  I  should  like  to  be  with 
you  now,  my  dear  mother,  to  comfort  you  and  keep  up  your 
spirits,  and  occupy  you  a  little  by  making  you  nurse  my  little 
boy  ! 

"  There  is  no  news  here  about  our  lord-lieutenant,  with 
which  people  were  occupied  for  so  long  a  while.  For  one,  I 
was  very  indifferent  about  it ;  and,  if  any  thing,  am  glad  Lord 
Fitzwilliam  does  not  come,  as  perhaps  it  may  make  some  of 
our  Opposition  act  with  more  spirit  and  determination.  I 
think  any  people  coming  into  the  government  of  this  country 
at  present  will  have  a  hard  task  of  it. 

"  Your  affectionate,  &c." 

"Duhlin,  Nov.  11th,  1794. 

"  Our  accounts  of  our  dear  Lucy  to-day  are  very  uncom- 
fortable and  distressing  ;  though  I  think  not  alarming,  as  it 
is  all  the  regular  process  of  that  kind  of  fever  of  which  the 
danger  is  over,  though  her  re-establishment  will  be  tedious. 
But  if  the  accounts  are  distressing  to  us,  how  much  must  you 
suffer,  who  are  a  constant  attendant  on  her,  the  dear  soul  ! 
and  who  see  all  her  sufferino-s,  and  all  the  chano-es  of  this  tedi- 
ous  illness  !  I  do  feel  for  you,  my  dearest  mother,  from  my 
heart,  and  for  Oarilvie,  and  the  dear  2:irls. 

"  I  have  been  busy  these  last  few  days,  preparing  to  go  to 
the  country.  I  have  sent  off  dear  Pam  and  the  baby  to-day, 
and  follow  to-morrow  :  they  are  both  well  —  have  been  both 
out  walking.  Pam  gets  strong,  and  the  little  fellow  fat  and 
saucy  :  he  has  taken  such  a  fancy  for  the  candle,  that  it  is 


126  MEMOIRS    OF 

almost  impossible  to  make  him  sleep  at  night.  A  cradle  he 
don't  like,  and  wants  always  to  have  his  cheek  on  his  mamma's 
breast.  He  every  day  grows,  I  think,  like  me  in  his  mouth 
and  nose  ;  but  the  eyes  I  don't  yet  make  out.  Dearest  mo- 
ther, I  try  to  give  you  details  of  things  that  will  interest  you  ; 
and  if  our  dear  Lucy  is  better,  I  know  they  will.  It  is  ter- 
rible to  have  her  thus  :  to  have  all  that  good-nature,  softness, 
and  gaiety  subdued  by  sickness  goes  to  one's  heart  ;  but  I 
hope,  while  I  write  this,  she  is  better.  My  dear  mother,  I 
should  like  to  be  with  you,  to  comfort  you  and  keep  up  your 
spirits. 

"  Your  affectionate,  &c." 

"  Carton,  K'ov.  25th,  1Y94. 

"  A  thousand  times  I  wish  you  joy  of  the  great  amendment 
in  our  dearest  Lucy's  health.  Your  letter  took  quite  a  load 
off  my  lieart  ;  for  though  I  was  not  frightened  after  Mosely 
and  Warren  said  she  was  out  of  danger,  yet  the  having  her 
still  so  ill  and  suffering  made  me  very  melancholy.  Thank 
God  !  she  is  so  much  better,  and  of  course,  my  dear  mother, 
so  much  easier.  Pray  thank  my  dear  Ciss  for  her  letters.  I 
will  write  in  a  day  or  two  to  her. 

"  We  have  been  here  a  week.  Pamela  was  not  well  for  a 
day,  but  it  was  only  a  little  bilious  attack,  and  a  ride  or  two 
on  the  pony  quite  put  her  right  ;  she  is  now  going  on  per- 
fectly well,  walks  every  day,  gains  her  strength  and  good 
looks.  The  little  fellow  is  delightful,  improving  every  day, 
takes  his  walks,  and,  in  short,  is  every  thing  we  could  wish  ; 
he  must  be  taken  great  notice  of,  spoken  to,  and  danced,  or 
otherwise  he  is  not  at  all  pleased.  We  are  to  stay  here 
another  week,  then  go  to  Castletown  for  a  week,  and  return 
here  for  the  christening,  which  is  to  be  the  8th  of  next  month. 
This  keeps  us  ten  days  longer  from  home  than  we  intended, 
which  I  am  sorry  for  ;  but  I  did  not  like  bringing  the  little 
fellow  down  to  Kildare,  and  then  having  to  change  him  again 
so  soon  as  bringing  him  here  on  the  8th  would  have  obliged 
me  to  do.  So  1  make  up  the  time  between  Castletown  and 
this  place  ;  though,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  longing  to  get  home. 

"  My  little  place  is  much  improved  by  a  few  things  I  have 
done,  and  by  all  my  planting  ; — by  the  bye,  I  doubt  if  I  told 
you  of  my  flower-garden, — I  got  a  great  deal  from  Frescati. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  127 

I  have  been  at  Kildare  since  Pam's  lying-in,  and  it  looked 
delightful,  though  all  the  leaves  were  ofif  the  trees, — but  so 
comfortable  and  snug.  I  think  I  shall  pass  a  delightful  win- 
ter there,  I  have  got  two  fine  large  clumps  of  turf,  which 
look  both  comfortable  and  pretty.  I  have  paled  in  my  little 
flower-garden  before  my  hall  door,  with  a  lath  paling,  like  the 
cottage,  and  stuck  it  full  of  roses,  sweetbrier,  honeysuckles, 
and  Spanish  broom.  I  have  got  all  my  beds  ready  for  my 
flowers  ;  so  you  may  guess  how  I  long  to  be  down  to  plant 
them.  The  little  fellow  will  be  a  great  addition  to  the  party. 
I  think  when  I  am  down  there  with  Pam  and  child,  of  a 
blustery  evening,  with  a  good  turf  fire,  and  a  pleasant  book, 
— coming  in,  after  seeing  my  poultry  put  up,  my  garden  set- 
tled,— flower-beds  and  plants  covered,  for  fear  of  frost, — the 
place  looking  comfortable,  and  taken  care  of,  I  shall  be  as 
happy  as  possible  ;  and  sure  I  am  I  shall  regret  nothing  but 
not  being  nearer  my  dearest  mother,  and  her  not  being  of  our 
party.  It  is,  indeed,  a  drawback  and  a  great  one,  our  not 
being  more  together.  Dear  Malvern  !  how  pleasant  w^e  were 
there  :  you  can't  think  how  this  time  of  year  puts  me  in  mind 
of  it.     Love  always  your  aflectionate  son, 

"E.  F.'^ 

In  reading  these  simple,  and, — to  an  almost  feminine  de- 
gree,— fond  letters,  it  is  impossible  not  to  feel  how  strange 
and  touching  is  the  contrast,  between  those  pictures  of  a 
happy  home  which  they  so  uuafl'ectedly  exhilnt,  and  that  dark 
and  troubled  sea  of  conspiracy  and  revolt  into  which  the  ami- 
able writer  of  them  so  soon  afterwards  plunged  ;  nor  can  we 
easily  bring  ourselves  to  believe  that  the  joyous  tenant  of  this 
little  Lodge,  the  happy  husbaad  and  father,  dividing  the  day 
between  his  child  and  his  flowers,  could  be  the  same  man  who, 
but  a  year  or  two  after,  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  rebel 
myriads,  negotiated  on  the  frontiers  of  France  for  an  alliance 
against  England,  and  but  seldom  laid  down  his  head  on  his 
pillow  at  night  without  a  prospect  of  being  summoned  thence 
to  the  scaffold  or  the  field.  The  government  that  could  drive 
a  man  into  such  resistance — and  there  were  hundreds  equal  to 
him  in  goodness,  if  not  in  heroism,  so  driven, — is  convicted  by 
this  very  result  alone,  without  any  further  inquiry  into  its 
history 


128  MEMOIRS    OF 

Though  his  lordship  had  not,  at  this  time,  nor,  indeed,  for 
a  year  or  two  after,  connected  himself  with  the  United  Irish 
Association  any  further  than  by  a  common  feeling  in  the 
cause,  yet  that  the  government  had  seen  reason,  even  thus 
early,  to  suspect  him  of  being  implicated  in  the  conspiracy 
appears  from  a  passage  in  the  Report  of  the  Secret  Committee 
in  1799,  where,  among  the  persons  who,  it  is  stated,  had,  so 
early  as  the  year  1794,  rendered  themselves  obnoxious  to  such 
a  suspicion,  the  name  of  his  lordship  is  included. 

Besides  the  well  known  republican  cast  of  his  opinions,  and 
the  complexion  of  the  society  he  chiefly  lived  with,  there  was 
also  a  circumstance  that  no  doubt  came  to  the  knowledge  of 
those  in  authority,  which  may  have  had  no  small  share  iu 
inducing  this  suspicion.  At  the  beginning  of  1793,  soon  after 
the  declaration  of  war  against  England,  the  ruling  party  in 
France  had  despatched  an  agent  to  Ireland,  for  the  purpose 
of  sounding  and  conferring  with  the  chief  leaders  of  the  United 
Irishmen,  and  offering  the  aid  of  French  arms  for  the  libera- 
tion of  their  country.  This  emissary  was  the  bearer  of  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  Lord  Edward,  who,  however,  appears  to 
have  done  nothing  more  towards  the  object  of  his  mission  than 
to  make  him  known  to  Mr.  Simon  Butler,  Mr.  Bond,*  and  a 
few  others  of  the  party,  by  whom  his  proposal  was,  after  all, 
so  Httle  countenanced  that  he  returned,  without  effecting  any 
thing  towards  his  purpose,  to  France. 

Very  different  was  the  feeling  with  which  a  proposal  of  the 
same  kind  was  hailed,  in  the  present  year,  after  an  increased 
pressure  of  coercion  had  been  for  some  time  in  operation  upon 
the  people,  and  in  proportion  to  the  sullen  tranquillity  thus 
enforced  over  the  surface  of  the  public  mind  was  the  condensed 
purpose  of  revenge  and  ripeness  for  explosion  underneath. 
Nor  was  there  a  want,  even  then,  of  forewarning  voices  to 
prognosticate  the  consequences  of  such  a  state  of  affairs  ;  and 

*  "  Bond  was  a  wholesale  woollen  draper  who  had  acquired  consid- 
erable wealth  in  his  business.  Arthur  O'Connor  speaks  of  him  as  '  a 
beloved  friend  whom  he  himself  had  brought  into  the  undertaking,' 
namely,  into  the  Society  of  United  Irishmen.  His  amiable  manners, 
extensive  charities,  and  generous  disposition,  had  endeared  him  to  his 
fellow-citizens  of  all  parties.  lie  was  convicted  on  Reynolds's  evidence 
and  sentenced  to  be  hanged,  but  was  ultimately  reprieved,  and  died 
ehortl}'  after  of  an  apoplectic  seizure  in  Xewgate." — Maddcn's  United 
Irishmen. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  129 

Sir  Lawrence  Parsons,  among  others,  in  urging  upon  ministers 
the  necessity  of  'oeing,  at  least,  [)rej;ared  for  the  event,  told 
them,  with  awful  truth,  that  they  "  were  sleeping  on  a  vol- 
cano." The  person  employed  in  this  communication  from 
France  was  the  Reverend  William  Jackson,*  whose  arrest 
soon  after  his  arrival,  while  it  put  a  stop  to  the  immediate 
course  of  his  mission,  served  its  object  in  a  way  hardly  less 
important,  by  giving  publicity  to  the  purpose  of  his  visit,  and, 
for  the  first  time,  acquainting  the  people  of  Ireland,  from  any 
authentic  source,  that  the  eyes  of  France  were  upon  them,  and 
that  the  same  powerful  arm  which  was  now,  with  restored 
strength  and  success,  breaking  asunder  the  chains  of  other 
lands,  might,  before  long,  reach  theirs. 

It  does  not  appear  that  Lord  Edward  was  among  the  per- 
sons whom  Jackson,  previous  to  his  apprehension,  conferred 
with  ;  nor  does  Theobald  Wolf  Tone,  who  has  given  a  detailed 
account  of  the  whole  transaction,  and  was  himself  deeply  im- 
plicated in  it,  make  any  mention  of  his  lordship's  name.  Evea 
apart,  however,  from  this  negative  evidence,  we  are  fully  war- 

*  In  April  1Y94,  another  emissary  arrived  in  Dublin,  and  shortly 
after  liis  arrival  was  arrested.  This  gentleman  Rev.  "\Vm.  Jackson, 
brought  witli  him  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald; 
that  his  mission  was  unexpected  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that 
Tone  and  qthers  of  the  popular  lenders  at  first,  were  disposed  to  be- 
lieve he  was  an  agent  of  the  British  government.  In  a  copy  of  Em- 
met and  McNevin's  "  Pieces  of  Irish  History,''  purchased  at  the  sale  of 
Hamilton  Rowan's  Library,  the  following  manuscript  note  in  the  hand- 
writing of  the  latter,  occurs  at  the  bottoin  of  the  page  wliere  mention 
is  made  of  Jackson's  mission. — "  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  declined  to 
have  any  conversation  with  Jackson." — Madden's  United  Irishmen. 

It  was  a  whole  year  from  the  time  of  Jackson's  arrest,  before  he 
was  brought  to  trial.  Curran  xmdertook  his  defence.  The  testimony 
of  Cockayne  was  positive.  But  it  was  contrary  to  the  law  of  England 
to  convict  of  high  treason  on  the  testimony  of  a  single  witness.  It  was 
found  however,  that  the  ancient  law  of  Ireland  differed  on  this  point. 
By  that  one  witness  was  sufficient.  Tlie  judges  were  too  glad  to  have 
difficulties  removed  in  the  wa}-  of  ready  conviction,  Jackson  was  con- 
demned. On  the  da}'  that  he  was  brought  to  the  court  to  receive  his 
sentence,  he  was  observed  to  hang  his  head  out  of  the  window  of  the 
carriage  with  the  appearance  of  one  deadly  sick.  When  placed  in 
the  dock  he  could  hardly-  stand.  He  had  swallowed  metallic  poison. 
He  beckoned  to  his  counsel  to  approach  him,  and  making  an  effort  to 
gi'asp  him  with  his  damp  and  nerveless  hand,  uttered  in  a  whisper 
and  with  a  smile  of  mournful  triumph  the  dying  words  of  Pierre, 
"  "We  have  deceived  the  senate." — Life  of  Curran. 


130  MEMOIRS    OF 

ranted  in  concluding  that  he  who,  to  the  last,  as  is  well  known, 
regarded  French  assistance  with  apprehension  and  jealousy, 
must  have  been  amono;  the  slowest  and  most  reluctant  to 
sanction  the  first  recurrence  to  it.  His  views,  indeed,  at  the 
outset, — as  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  collect  from  some  of 
his  earliest  friends, — did  not  extend  so  far  as  total  separation 
from  England,  Connected  as  he  was,  by  blood,  with  that 
country,  and  counting,  as  it  proved,  far  too  confidently  on  the 
present  dispositions  of  the  English  towards  change  and  reform, 
he  looked,  at  first,  rather  to  concert  with  them  in  the  great 
cause  of  freedom,  than  to  any  thing  like  schism,  and  would,  at 
the  commencement  of  the  struggle,  have  been  contented  with 
such  a  result  as  should  leave  the  liberties  of  both  countries 
regenerated  and  secured  under  one  common  head.  This 
moderation  of  purpose,  however,  gradually  gave  way,  as  the 
hopes  by  which  alone  it  could  be  sustained  vanished.  The 
rejection  of  the  motions  of  Mr.  G rattan  and  Mr.  Ponsonby 
for  Reform  had  shut  out  all  expectation  of  redress  from  the 
Irish  government  ;  while  the  tameness  with  which  England, 
in  her  horror  of  Jacobinism,  was,  at  this  moment,  crouching 
under  the  iron  rule  of  Mr.  Pitt,  gave  as  little  hope  of  a  better 
order  of  things  dawning  from  that  quarter. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  United  Irish  Society  of  Dublin,  whose 
meetings  hitherto  had  been  held  openly,  were,  under  the  sanc- 
tion of  one  of  the  new  coercive  measures,  dispersed,  as  illegal  ; 
and  the  whole  body,  thus  debarred  from  the  right  of  speaking 
out,  as  citizens,  passed  naturally  to  the  next  step,  of  plottiiig 
as  conspirators.  Even  yet,  however,  it  does  not  appear  that 
the  last  desperate  expedient,  of  recurring  to  force  or  to  foreign 
aid,  though  urged  eagerly  by  some,  and  long  floating  before 
the  eyes  of  all,  had  entered  seriously  into  the  contemplation 
of  those  who  were  afterwards  the  chief  leaders  of  the  struggle  ; 
nor  can  there,  indeed,  be  any  stronger  proof  of  the  reluctance 
with  which  these  persons  suffered  themselves  to  be  driven  to 
sucli  extremities  than  the  known  fact  that,  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  year  It 96,  neither  M'Nevin,  nor  Emmet,  nor 
Arthur  O'Connor,*  nor  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  had  yet 
joined  the  ranks  of  the  United  Irishmen. 

*  "My  old  friend  Arthur  O'Connor,  is,  I  am  happy  to  say,  not  only 
alive,  but  actively  engaged  in  the  preparation  of  memoirs  of  his  long 
and  eventful  life.     He  -will  tell  his  own  tale,  but  I  cannot  write  his 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  Ii5l 

But  a  juncture  was  now  at  hand  when,  in  the  minds  of  all 
embarked  in  the  cause,  there  could  no  longer  remain  a  doubt 
that  the  moment  had  arrived  when  between  unconditional 
submission  and  resistance  lay  their  only  choice,  and  when  he 
who  thought  the  rights  they  struggled  for  worth  such  a  risk 
must  "  set  his  life  on  the  cast,"'  as  there  was  no  longer  any 
other  chance  of  attaining  them.  The  recall  of  Lord  Fitz- 
william  was  the  event  which,  at  once,  brought  the  struggle  to 
this  crisis  ;  and  never,  assuredly,  was  there  a  more  insulting 
breach  of  faith  flung  deliberately  in  the  face  of  a  whole  people. 
As  if  to  render  still  more  mischievous  the  disappointment  that 
was  about  to  be  excited,  all  the  preliminaries  of  the  great 
measure  of  justice  now  announced  to  the  Catholics  were 
allowed  to  be  proceeded  in  ;  nor  was  it  till  Mr.  Grattan, 
under  the  full  sanction  of  government,  and  with  hardly  a  mur- 
mur of  dissatisfaction  from  any  part  of  the  country,  had  ob- 
tained leave  to  bring  in  a  Bill  for  the  complete  enfranchise- 
ment of  the  Roman  Catholics,  that  the  British  minister 
stretched  forth  his  hand  and  dashed  the  cup  from  their  lips. 
In  vain  did  Lord  Fitzwilliam  set  forth  the  danger, — and  he 
might  have  added,  perfidy, — of  now  retracting  the  boon,  and 
declare  that  *'  he,  at  least,  would  not  be  the  person  to  raise  a 
flame  which  nothing  but  the  force  of  arms  could  put  down." 
The  dark  destiny  of  Ireland,  as  usual,  triumphed  : — with  the 
choice  before  them  of  either  conciliating  the  people  or  lashing 
them  up  into  rebellion,  the  British  Cabinet  chose  the  latter 

name  upon  the  same  page  with  that  of  Edward  Fitzgerald  without 
reflecting  upon  the  peculiar  character  of  the  national  movement  of 
whicli  tliese  two  men  were  types  as  well  as  leaders.  In  casting  their 
lot  with  those  who  desired  to  reform  and  regenerate  their  country, 
and  who  in  pursuit  of  that  end  went  the  extreme  length  of  treason, 
botli  O'Connor  and  Fitzgerald  proved  their  sincerit}'  by  putting  in 
jeopardy  the  most  enviable  positions  which  men  could  attain  to  in  Irish 
Society.  To  both,  the  road  to  high  station  and  wealth  was  open,  both 
unhesitatingly  struck  off  into  a  narrower  path  that  seemed  to  lead 
them  towards  the  good  service  of  Ireland,  but  that  eventually  con- 
ducted the  one  to  exile  and  disinheritance,  and  the  other  to  a  violent 
death.  Arthur  O'Connor  would  have  inherited  the  estate,  and,  in  all 
probability,  the  title  of  his  uncle.  Lord  Longueville,  whose  borough 
he  represented  in  parliament  had  he  followed  his  Lordship  in  sup- 
porting the  government;  his  sincere  conviction  was,  that  to  do  so 
would  be  to  oppose  the  cause  of  his  country,  and  he  acted  in  accord- 
ance with  that  conviction." — Pergonal  Recollections  of  Lord  Cloncurry. 


132  MEMOIRS    OF 

course,*  and  Lord  Fitzwilliam  was,  in  an  evil  hour,  replaced 
by  Lord  Camden. 

The  natural  effect  of  this  change  was  to  reinforce  instantly 
the  ranks  of  the  Unfted  Irishmen  with  all  that  mass  of  discon- 
tent generated  by  such  a  defiance  of  the  public  will ;  and  we 
have  it  on  the  authority  of  the  chief  rebel  leaders  themselves, 
that  out  of  the  despair  and  disgust  of  this  moment  arose  an 
immediate  and  immense  accession  of  strength  to  their  cause. 
Nor  was  it  only  in  the  increased  number  of  the  malcontents 
that  the  operation  of  this  policy  showed  itself,  but  in  the  more 
daring  extension  of  their  plans  and  elevation  of  their  aims. 
The  Protestant  reformer,  whom  a  Democratic  House  of  Com- 
mons f   and  the   Emancipation  of  his  Catholic  countrymen 

*  That  a  Union  was  the  ultimate  object  of  this  policy,  the  Duke  of 
Portland  at  the  time  clearly  avowed,  declaring  it  as  his  opinion,  in 
recommending  Lord  Fitzwilliam  to  retrace  his  steps  on  the  Catholic 
question,  that  "  it  would  be  a  means  of  doing  a  greater  good  to  the 
British  empire  than  it  had  been  capable  of  receiving  since  the  Revo- 
lution, or,  at  least,  since  the  Unioti."  With  respect  to  the  means 
through  which  they  had  made  up  their  minds  to  wade  to  this  meas- 
ure, though  not  avowed  at  first,  the  design  was,  at  a  later  period,  ac- 
knowledged witliout  scruple.  "  It  has  been  said,"  remarked  Mi\  Grat- 
tan,  in  his  speech  on  the  subject  of  General  Lake's  proclamation,  "  that 
it  were  better  the  people  should  proceed  to  violence  ;  nay,  it  has  been 
said,  in  so  many  words,  '  It  were  to  be  wished  they  did  rebel.'  Good 
God! — wished  they  would  rebel!  Here  is  the  system  and  the  princi- 
ple of  the  system.  From  corruption  to  coercion,  and  so  on  to  military 
execution,  accompanied  with  a  declaration  that  it  were  to  be  wished 
the  people  would  go  into  rebellion!  "  The  avowal,  too,  of  Lord  Cas- 
tlereagh,  in  his  examination  of  Dr.  M'Nevin  before  the  Secret  Com- 
mittee, that  "  means  were  taken  to  make  the  United  Irish  system  explode,^^ 
is  no  less  exclusive  evidence  of  the  same  disgraceful  fact. 

f  "  We  thought,"  said  Dr.  M'Nevin,  "  one  aristocratic  body  in  the 
state  sufficient."  It  must  be  owned,  however,  that  with  such  a  sj'steni 
of  representation  as  was  proposed  by  the  United  Irishmen,  no  monar- 
chy could  go  on.  The  following  are  some  of  the  general  provisions  of 
their  plan : 

"  That  the  nation,  for  the  purpose  of  representation  solely,  should 
be  divided  into  three  Inindred  electorates,  formed  by  a  combination 
of  parishes,  and  as  nearly  as  possible  equal  in  point  of  population. 

"  That  each  electorate  should  return  one  member  to  Parliament. 

"  That  ever}^  male  of  sound  mind,  who  lias  attained  the  age  of  21 
years,  and  actually  dwelt  or  maintained  a  family  establishment  in  any 
electorate  for  six  months  of  the  twelve  immediately  previous  to  the 
commencement  of  the  election  (provided  his  residence,  or  maintaining 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  133 

would  once  have  satisfied,  now  driven  to  take  a  more  advanced 
position  in  his  demands,  saw,  with  the  Presbyterian,  no  chance 
but  in  separation  and  a  Republic  ;  while  the  Catholic,  hitherto 
kept  loyal  by  the  sort  of  "gratitude  that  is  felt  for  favours  to 
come,"  and,  between  his  new  hopes  and  his  old  resentments, 
being,  as  it  were,  half  courtier  and  half  rebel,  now  baffled  and 
insulted,  threw  his  strength  into  the  confederacy, — prepared 
doubly  for  mischief  both  by  what  had  been  given  and  what 
had  been  refused,  the  former  arming  him  with  power,  and  the 
latter  leaving  him  revenge. 

Having  traced  thus  far,  as  compendiously  as  my  subject 
would  admit  of,  the  course  of  that  rash  and  headlong  current 
of  events  which  marks  this  whole  period  of  Irish  history,  and 
which  could  not  otherwise  than  lead  to  the  catastrophe  we  are 
now  approaching,  I  shall,  through  the  short  remainder  of  my 
story,  confine  myself,  as  much  as  possible,  to  those  public 
occurrences  more  immediately  connected  with  Lord  Edward 
himself,  and  with  the  part  taken  by  him  in  that  deep-laid  and 
formidable  conspiracy  with  which,  about  the  period  we  have 
now  reached,  he,  for  the  first  time,  connected  himself ; — a 
conspiracy  which,  however  judgments  may  vary  as  to  the 
justifiableness  of  its  grounds  or  aims,  can  admit,  I  think,  but 
of  one  opinion  with  respect  to  the  sagacious  daring  with  which 
it  was  planned,  and  the  perseverance,  fidelity,  and  all  but  suc- 
cess, with  which  it  was  conducted. 

From  any  great  insight  into  the  details  of  his  private  life 
we  are  henceforth  shut  out ;  as,  from  the  moment  he  found 
himself  embarked  in  so  perilous  an  enterprise,  he,  as  a  matter 
of  conscience,  abstained  from  much  communication  with  his 
family,  feeling  it  to  be  quite  a  sufficient  infliction  to  keep  them 
in  alarm  for  his  safety,  without  also  drawing  upon  them  sus- 
picions that  might  endanger  their  own.  After  his  arrival  from 
England,  he,  for  a  short  time,  Hved  in  some  degree  of  style, 

a  family  establishment  be  duly  registered),  should  be  entitled  to  vote 
for  the  representative  of  the  electorate. 

*'  That  the  votes  of  all  electors  should  be  given  by  voice,  and  not 
by  ballot. 

"  That  no  property  qualification  should  be  necessary  to  entitle  any 
man  to  be  a  representative. 

"  That  representatives  should  receive  a  reasonable  stipend  for  their 
services. 

"  That  Parliament  should  be  annual." 


134  MEMOIRS    OF 

keeping  a  fine  stud  of  horses,  and,  as  I  have  been  told,  dis- 
playing the  first  specimen  of  that  sort  of  carriage,  called  a  cur- 
ricle, which  had  j'^et  appeared  in  Dublin.  On  his  removal, 
however,  to  the  little  Lodge  at  Kildare,  he  reduced  his  estab- 
lishment considerably  ;  and  small  as  was  his  income, — never, 
I  believe,  exceeding  eight  hundred  a  year, — it  would  have 
been  for  a  person  of  his  retired  habits  and  temperate  wants, 
amply  sufficient.  But  the  engrossing  object  that  now  engaged 
him — to  which  safety,  peace  of  mind,  and,  at  last,  life  was 
sacrificed, — absorbed  likewise  all  his  means  ;  the  advances  he 
found  it  necessary  to  make  for  the  exigencies  of  the  cause  not 
only  drawing  upon  his  present  resources,  but  also  forcing  him 
to  raise  supplies  by  loans  with  which  his  property  was  left 
encumbered. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  there  took  place  on  the  Curragh 
of  Kildare,  a  well-known  rencontre  between  his  lordship  and 
some  dragoon  officers,  which, — like  most  other  well-known 
anecdotes  that  the  biographer  has  to  inquire  into, — receives 
from  every  new  relater  a  wholly  different  form.  The  follow- 
ing, however,  are,  as  nearly  as  possible,  the  real  circumstances 
of  the  transaction.  Mr,  Arthur  O'Connor*  being,  at  that 
time,  on  a  visit  to  his  noble  friend,  thev  rode  together,  on  one 
of  the  days  of  the  races,  to  the  Curragh, — Lord  Edward 
having  a  green  silk  handkerchief  round  his  neck.  It  was 
indeed  his  practice,  at  all  times  (contrary  to  the  usual  custom 
of  that  day),  to  wear  a  coloured  silk  neckcloth, — generally  of 

*  It  is  (1854)  two  years  since  a  friend  in  Paris  advised  me  of  thfe 
death  of  General  Arthur  Condorcet  O'Connor,  in  the  ninety-ninth 
year  of  his  age.  The  same  friend  assured  me  the  General  had  com- 
pleted in  live  volumes  his  "Life  and  Times."  and  left  them  with  his 
wife  fur  publication,  and  that  she  had  taken  them  to  Switzerland.  On 
receiving  this  information,  I  ordered  through  a  Bookseller  here  a  copy 
of  the  work  so  soon  as  published  in  Europe,  well  knowing  the  supe- 
rior opportunities  and  talents  of  the  writer,  and  that  he  was  intimately 
acquainted  with  all  the  relations,  intercourse,  and  negociations  which 
had  taken  place  between  the  Avould-be  Irish  rebels  and  the  Govern- 
ment of  France,  To  my  extreme  disappointment,  regret  and  mortiti- 
cation,  ni\'  order  was  returned  to  the  Bookseller  with  the  information 
that,  Mrs.  General  O'Connor  had  printed  the  work  in  Dublin,  that  the 
Goverment  had  seized  the  whole  edition  and  supj)ressed  the  publica- 
tion. I  am  unable  to  say  whether  a  copy  printed  or  manuscript  re- 
mains in  possession  of  the  relations  or  friends  of  the  deceased. — Life 
of  John  Binns. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD,  135 

that  pattern  which  now  bears  the  name  of  Belcher  ;  but,  on 
the  present  occasion,  he  chose  to  wear  the  national,  and,  at 
that  time,  obnoxious  colour,  green. 

At  the  end  of  the  race,  having  left  the  stand-house,  in  a 
canter,  to  return  home,  the  two  friends  had  not  proceeded  far 
before  they  found  themselves  overtaken  by  a  party  of  from  ten 
to  a  dozen  officers,  who,  riding  past  them  in  full  gallop,  wheeled 
round,  so  as  to  obstruct  their  passage,  and  demanded  that 
Lord  Edward  should  take  off  his  green  cravat.  Thus  ac- 
costed, his  lordship  answered  coolly, — ''  Your  cloth  would 
speak  you  to  be  gentlemen  ;  but  this  conduct  conveys  a  very 
different  impression.  As  to  this  neckcloth  that  so  offends 
you,  all  I  can  say  is, — here  I  stand  ;  let  any  man  among  you, 
who  dares,  come  forward  and  take  it  off."  This  speech,  pro- 
nounced calmly  and  deliberately,  took  his  pursuers  by  sur- 
prise ;  and  for  a  moment  they  look  puzzled  at  each  other, 
doubtful  how  to  proceed  ;  when  Mr.  O'Connor,  interposing, 
said,  that  if  the  officers  chose  to  appoint  two  out  of  their 
number.  Lord  Edward  and  himself  would  be  found,  ready  to 
attend  their  summons,  at  Kildare.  The  parties  then  sepa- 
rated, and  during  the  two  following  days,  Lord  Edward  and 
his  friend  waited  the  expected  message.  But  no  further  steps 
were  taken  by  these  military  gentlemen,  on  whose  conduct 
rather  a  sigrificant  verdict  was  passed  at  a  Curragh  ball, 
shortly  after,  «vhen  it  was  agreed,  as  I  have  heard,  by  all  the 
ladies  in  thr  zoom  not  to  accept  any  of  them  as  partners. 

It  woul(^  tppear  to  have  been  about  the  beginning  of  1T96 
that  Lor(^  Edward  first  entered  into  the  Societv  of  United 
L'ishmen.  That  he  went  throu2:h  the  usual  form  of  initiation 
by  an  oath  is  not,  I  think,  })robable  ;  for,  as  in  the  case  of 
Mr.  Arthur  O'Connor,  they  dispensed  with  this  condition,  it  is 
to  be  concluded  that  the  same  tribute  to  the  high  honour  and 
trust-worthiness  of  their  iniatiate  would  be  accorded  also  to 
Lord  Edward.  In  the  preceding  year,  as  has  been  already 
mentioned,  a  great  change  had  taken  place  both  in  the  spirit 
and  frame-work  of  the  system  of  Union  ; — or,  rather,  an  en- 
tirely new  system  was  at  that  time  constructed,  on  such 
remains  of  the  old  society  as  had,  in  the  north  and  elsewhere, 
survived  the  operation  of  the  Convention  Act.  The  secrecy 
with  which  they  were  now  obliged  to  invest  their  meetings 
made  it  necessary  to  add  the  solemn  obligation  of  an  oath  to 


136  MEMOIRS    OF 

the  simple  Test  which  had  hitherto  bound  them  together  ; 
while  an  equally  significant  change  was  the  omission  of  certain 
words,  from  that  Test,  which  had  seemed  to  limit  their  views 
to  a  Reform  "  z?i  Farlimunlp  The  oath,  as  at  present  framed, 
pledged  every  member  "  to  persevere  in  his  endeavours  to  obtain 
an  equal,  full,  and  adequate  representation  of  all  the  people 
of  Ireland," — thus  leaving  free  scope  for  those  more  extended 
projects  of  change  which  no  less  their  confidence  in  themselves 
than  their  despair  of  their  rulers  now  suggested  to  them.  The 
system,  as  hitherto  constituted,  had  consisted  but  of  individual 
societies,  communicating  with  each  other  by  delegates  ;  nor 
had  they,  before  this  time,  carried  their  organization  any  far- 
ther than  to  the  appointment  of  a  Committee  for  the  county 
of  Antrim  which  acted,  occasionally,  as  Executive. 

On  the  remodelling,  however,  of  the  association,  in  1795, 
the  new  impulse  given  to  its  principle  by  the  recall  of  Lord 
Fitzwilliam,  and  the  consequent  increase  of  its  numbers,  called 
for  a  plan  of  organization  more  commensurate  with  the  advance 
of  the  cause  ;  and,  for  all  the  purposes,  as  well  of  secrecy,  as 
of  concert  and  uniformity  of  action,  it  would  be  diSicult,  per- 
haps, to  devise  a  plan  more  efficient  than  that  which  they 
adopted.  In  order  to  avoid  the  mixture  of  persons  unknown 
to  each  other,  it  was  fixed  that  no  society  should  consist  of 
more  than  twelve  persons,  and  those,  as  nearly  as  possible,  of 
the  same  street  or  neighbourhood.  By  each  of  these  societies 
of  twelve,  a  secretary  was  chosen,  and  the  secretaries  of  five 
such  societies  formed  a  Committee,  called  the  Lower  Baronial. 
The  next  step  in  the  scale  was  called  the  Upper  Baronial 
Committee,  to  constitute  which  ten  Lower  Barouials  sent  each 
a  member  ;  and  above  this  rose  again  the  District  or  County 
Committee,  composed  of  one  member  chosen  from  each  Upper 
Baronial. 

Having  provided,  by  these  successive  layers,  as  it  were,  of 
delegated  authority, — each  exercising  a  superintendence  over 
that  immediately  below  it, — for  the  organization  of  the  seve- 
ral counties  and  populous  towns,  they  next  superadded,  in 
each  of  the  four  provinces,  a  Provincial  Committee,  composed 
of  two,  or  sometimes,  three  members  elected  from  each  of  the 
County  Committees  ;  and,  lastly,  came  the  Executive, — the 
apex  of  the  system, — which  consisted  of  five  persons,  chosen 
in  such  a  manner  from  the  Provincial  Committees  as  to  leave 


LORD    EDWARD    is-ITZGERALD,  13 1 

the  members  of  the  latter  in  entire  ignorance  as  to  the  indi- 
viduals selected.  Over  the  whole  body  thus  organized,  the 
Executive  possessed  full  command,  and  could  transmit  its 
orders  with  but  little  risk  through  the  whole  range  of  the 
Union, — one  member  of  the  Executive  communicating  them 
to  one  member  of  the  Provincial  Committee,  and  he  again 
to  the  secretary  of  the  County  Committee,  who,  in  like  man- 
ner, passed  them  down  through  the  secretaries  of  the  Baroni- 
als,  and  these  on  to  the  secretaries  of  the  subordinate  socie- 
ties. 

The  facility  with  which  it  was  found  that  this  plan,  thougli 
designed,  at  first,  for  a  purely  civil  organization,  could  be 
transferred,  without  change  of  its  structure,  to  military  pur- 
poses rendered  it  a  doubly  formidable  engine  in  the  hands  that 
now  directed  it.  The  secretary  of  each  subordinate  society 
of  twelve  was  transformed  easily  into  a  sergeant  or  corporal ; 
the  delegate  of  five  societies  to  a  Lower  Baronial  became  a 
captain  with  sixty  men  under  his  command,  and  the  delegate 
of  ten  Lower  Baronials  to  a  County  or  District  Committee 
took  rank  as  a  colonel  at  the  head  of  a  battalion  of  six  hun- 
dred men. 

Though  there  had  been,  from  time  to  time,  since  the  break- 
ing out  of  the  war  with  France,  attempts  made  by  individu- 
als who  passed  secretly  between  the  two  countries  to  bring 
abo'tit  an  understanding  between  the  United  Irishmen  and  the 
French  Directory,  it  was  not  till  early  in  the  year  1T9G  that 
any  regular  negotiation  was  entered  into  for  that  purpose  : 
and  the  person  who  then  took  upon  himself  the  office, — an 
office,  unluckily  not  new  in  diplomacy, — of  representing  the 
grievances  of  Ireland  at  the  court  of  England's  enemy,  was 
Theobald  Wolfe  Tone,  the  banished  Secretarv  of  the  Catholic 
Committee,  who  had,  early  in  the  year,  sailed  from  America 
to  France  on  this  mission,  and  whose  Diary  of  the  whole 
course  of  his  negotiations  has  been  some  time  before  the  pub- 
lic. To  this  book  I  must  refer  the  reader  for  particulars,  ad- 
ding only  my  opinion,  that  there  are  few  works,  whether  for 
the  matter  or  the  manner,  more  interesting-  ; — the  character 
of  the  writer  himself  presenting  the  most  truly  Irish  mixture 
of  daring  in  design  and  light-heartedness  in  execution  ;  while 
the  sense  of  awe  with  which  it  is  impossible  not  to  contem- 
plate a  mission  pregnant  with  such  consequences,  is  for  ever 


138  MEMOIRS    OF 

relieved  by  those  alternate  flashes  of  humour  and  sentiment 
with  which  only  a  temperament  so  national  could  have  enliv- 
ened or  softened  such  details.  The  whole  storv,  too,  is  full  of 
ominous  warning  to  Great  Britain,  as  showing  how  fearfully 
dependent  upon  winds  and  waves  may,  even  yet,  be  her  physi- 
cal hold  upon  Ireland,  unless  timely  secured  by  those  moral 
ties  which  good  government  can  alone  establish  between  a 
people  and  their  rulers. 

In  consequence  of  Tone's  representations  of  the  state  of 
feeling  in  Ireland,  confirmed  and  enforced  bv  more  recent  in- 
telligence,  it  was,  in  the  spring  of  the  present  year,  intimated 
to  the  persons  then  directing  the  Irish  Union,*  that  the  French 
government  were  disposed  to  assist  them,  by  an  invasion  of 
Ireland,  in  their  plan  of  casting  off  the  English  yoke  and 
establishing  a  Republic,  Having  taken  this  proj)Osal  seriously 
into  consideration,  the  Irish  Executive  returned  for  answer 
that  "  they  accepted  the  offer,  on  condition  that  the  French 
would  come  as  allies  only,  and  consent  to  act  under  the  direc- 
tion of  the  new  government,  as  Rochambean  did  in  America  ; 
— that,  upon  the  same  principle,  the  expenses  of  the  expedi- 
tion must  be  reimbursed,  and  the  troops,  while  acting  in  Ire- 
land, receive  Irish  pay."  This  answer  was  despatched  to 
Paris  by  a  special  messenger,  who  returned  with  the  Direc- 
tory's full  assent  to  the  terms,  and  a  promise  that  the  proffer- 
ed succours  should  be  sent  without  delay. 

After  tracing,  as  I  have  done  briefly,  some  few  pages  back, 
the  progress  of  Ireland's  struggles  for  Emancipation  and  Re- 
form down  to  the  period  when  all  moderation  was  evidently 
cast  off  by  both  parties,  and  a  course  of  warfare  commenced 
between  the  State  and  the  people,  it  was  my  intention,  as  I 
have  there  stated,  not  to  enter  into  any  of  those  further  mea- 
sures of  the  government  which  were,  in  fact,  but  a  continu- 
ation of  the  same  system  of  coercion  they  had  begun,  only 
increasino",  with  each  new  turn  of  the  screw,  the  intensitv  of 
the  pressure.  A  Bill,  however,  brought  in  this  session,' — the 
memorable  Insurrection  Act, — must,  from  the  part  Lord  Ed- 

*  The  new  system  of  organization  had  not,  a?  yet,  been  carried  into 
complete  effect  any  where  but  in  Ulster,  the  Executive  Committee  of 
which  province,  holding  its  sittings  at  Belfast,  managed  at  this  time 
the  interests  of  the  whole  Union. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  139 

ward  took  in  its  discussion,  receive  a  passing  notice.  In 
opposing  (Feb.  2d)  one  of  the  Resolutions  on  which  the  Bill 
was  to  be  founded,  his  lordship  declared  it  to  be  his  opinion, 
that  "  nothing  would  tranquillize  the  country  but  the  sincere 
endeavour  of  the  goverment  to  redress  the  grievances  of  the 
people.  If  that  was  done,  the  people  would  return  to  their 
allegiance  ; — if  not,  he  feared  that  neither  Resolutions  nor 
Bills  would  be  of  any  avail."  * 

In  order  to  settle  all  the  details  of  their  late  agreement 
with  France,  and,  in  fact,  enter  into  a  formal  treaty  with  the 
French  Directory,  it  was  thought  of  importance,  by  the  Unit- 
ed Irishmen,  to  send  some  agent,  whose  station  and  character 
should,  in  the  eyes  of  their  new  allies,  lend  weight  to  his  mis- 
sion ;  and  to  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  the  no  less  delicate 
than  daring  task  was  assigned.  It  being  thought  desirable,, 
too,  that  he  should  have  the  aid,  in  his  negotiations,  of  the 
brilliant  talents  and  popular  name  of  Mr.  Arthur  O'Connor, 
they  requested  likewise  the  services  of  that  gentleman,  who 
consented  readilv  to  act  in  concert  with  his  friend. 

About  the  latter  end  of  May,  accompanied  only  by  his 
lady,  who  was  then  not  far  from  the  period  of  her  confine- 
ment. Lord  Edward  set  out  from  Dublin  on  his  perilous  em- 

*  The  language  of  others  (who,  however,  luckily  for  themselves, 
went  i!0  farther  than  language — who  "  spoke  daggers,  hut  used  none") 
was  yet  more  strong.  ]\Ir.  Ponsoiiby  dechared  that  the  Insurrection 
Bill,  if  continued,  would  be  the  grave  of  the  Constitution.  Sir  Law- 
rence Parsons,  in  speaking  of  the  clause  against  persons  selling  sedi- 
tious papers,  said,  '*  that  if  the  most  arbitrary  spirits  through  the 
whole  kingdom  had  been  brought  together,  with  the  most  studious 
selection,  to  compose  an  arbitrary  law  against  the  liberty  of  the  press, 
they  could  scarcely  have  devised  any  thing  more  destructive  than 
this : — and  yet  this  was  but  a  subordinate  part  of  the  present  Bill." 
ilr.  Duquerry,  at  a  later  period  of  the  year,  accused  the  ministers  of 
"goading  the  people  to  resistance;"  and  Mr.  Grattan,  in  adverting  to 
an  assertion  of  Mr.  Secretary  Pelham,  '•  that  the  exclusion  of  Catho- 
lics from  the  parliament  and  the  state  was  necessary  fur  the  crown 
and  the  connexion,"  said,  "Eternal  and  indefeasible  proscription!  de- 
nounced b\'  a  minister  of  the  crown  against  three-fourths  of  his  Majes- 
ty's subjects But,  the  member  may  rely  on  it.  the  Catholic. — ■ 

the  Irish  will  not  long  submit  to  such  an  interdict;  they  will  not  suf- 
fer a  stranger  to  tell  us  on  what  proud  terms  English  government 
will  consent  to  rule  in  Ireland,  still  less  to  pronounce  and  dictate  the 
incapacity  of  the  natives  as  the  terms  of  her  dominion,  and  the  base 
condition  of  our  connexion  and  allegiauco."  200 


140  MEMOIRS   OF 

bassy, — passing  a  day  or  two  in  London,  on  his  way,  and,  as 
I  have  been  informed  by  a  gentleman  who  was  of  the  party, 
dining,  on  one  of  those  days  at  the  honse  of  Lord  *  *  *  *  ^ 
where  the  company  consisted  of  Mr.  Fox,  Mr.  Sheridan,  and 
several  other  distinguished  Whigs, — all  persons  who  had  been 
known  to  concur  warmly  in  every  step  of  the  popular  cause 
in  Ireland,  and  to  whom,  if  Lord  Edward  did  not  give  some 
intimation  of  the  object  of  his  present  journey,  such  an  effort 
of  reserve  and  secrecy  was,  I  must  say,  very  unusual  in  his 
character.  From  London  his  lordship  proceeded  to  Ham- 
burgh, and  had  already  begun  to  treat  with  Rheynhart,  the 
French  agent  at  that  place,  when  he  was  joined  there  by  Mr. 
O'Connor.  Seeing  reason,  however,  to  have  some  doubts  of 
the  trust-worthiness  of  this  person,  they  discontinued  their 
negotiation  with  him,  and,  leaving  Lady  Edward  at  Ham- 
burgh, proceeded  together  to  Basle,  where,  through  the  medi- 
um of  the  agent  Barthelomew,  they  opened  their  negotiation 
with  the  French  Directory. 

It  was  now  known  that  General  Hoche,  the  late  conqueror 
and  pacificator  of  La  Yendee,  was  the  officer  appointed  to 
take  the  command  of  the  expedition  to  Ireland  ;  and  the 
great  advantage  of  holding  personal  communication, _  on  the 
subject,  with  an  individual  on  whom  the  destinies  of  their 
country  so  much  depended,  was  fully  appreciated  by  both 
friends.  After  a  month's  stay  at  Basle,  however,  it  was  signi- 
fied to  them  that  to  Mr.  O'Connor  alone  would  it  be  permit- 
ted to  meet  Hoche  as  a  negotiator, — the  French  Government 
having  objected  to  receive  Lord  Edward,  "  lest  the  idea  should 
get  abroad,  from  his  being  married  to  Pamela,  that  his  mission 
had  some  reference  to  the  Orleans  family."  Independently  of 
this  curious  objection,  it  appears  to  have  been  strongly  im- 
pressed upon  Lord  Edward  by  some  of  his  warmest  friends 
that  he  should,  on  no  account,  suffer  his  zeal  in  the  cause  to 
induce  him  to  pass  the  borders  of  the  French  territory. 

Leaving  to  Mr.  O'Connor,  therefore,  the  management  of 
their  treaty  with  Hoche,  whom  the  French  Directory  had  in- 
vested with  full  powers  for  the  purpose.  Lord  Edward  return- 
ed to  Hamburgh, — having,  unluckily,  for  a  travelling  compa- 
nion, during  the  greater  part  of  the  journey,  a  foreign  lady 
who  had  been  once  the  mistress  of  an  old  friend  and  official 
colleague  of  Mr.  Pitt,  and  who  was  still  in  the  habit  of  cor- 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  141 

responding  with  her  former  protector.  Wholly  ignorant  of 
these  circumstances,  Lord  Edward,  with  the  habitual  frank- 
ness of  his  nature,  not  only  expressed  freely  his  opinions  on  all 
political  subjects,  but  afforded  some  clues,  it  is  said,  to  the 
secret  of  his  present  journey,  which  his  fellow-traveller  was, 
of  couse,  not  slow  in  transmitting  to  her  official  friend. 

After  his  interview  with  Mr.  O'Connor,  Hoche  hastened, 
with  all  privacy,  to  Paris,  to  inform  the  Directory  of  the  re- 
sult ;  and  the  zeal  with  which  his  own  ambitious  spirit  had 
already  taken  up  the  cause  being  still  more  quickened  by  the 
representations  of  the  state  of  Ireland  he  had  just  received, 
an  increased  earnestness  and  activity  were  soon  visible  in  every 
branch  of  the  preparations  for  the  expedition.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  the  indefatigable  Tone  first  saw  the  destined  leader 
of  that  enterprise  which  had,  for  so  long  a  time,  been  the 
subject  of  all  his  thoughts  and  dreams, — that  Avatar  to  which 
he  had  so  long  looked  for  the  liberation  of  his  country,  and 
which  was  now,  as  he  thought,  to  be  accomplished  in  the  per- 
son of  this  Chief  The  conversations  that  passed  between 
them  are  detailed  in  Tone's  Diarv  :  and  it  is  not  unamusino; 
to  observe  how  diplomatically  the  young  general  managed  to 
draw  from  Tone  all  that  he  knew  or  thought,  concerning  Lord 
Edward  and  Mr.  O'Connor,  without,  in  the  least  degree,  be- 
travino^  his  own  recent  neorotiation  with  them.  "  Hoche  then 
asked  me  (says  Tone),  'did  I  know  Arthur  O'Connor?'  I 
replied,  '  I  did,  and  that  I  entertained  the  highest  opinion  of 
his  talents,  principles,  and  patriotism.'  He  asked  me,  '  Did 
he  not  some  time  ago  make  an  explosion  in  the  Irish  Parlia- 
ment ? '  I  replied,  '  He  made  the  ablest  and  honestest  speech, 
to  my  mind,  that  was  ever  made  in  that  House.'  '  Well,'  said 
he,  *  will  he  join  us  ? '  I  answered,  '  I  hoped,  as  he  was  fon- 
ciercment  Irlandais,  that  he  undoubtedly  would.'  Hoche  then 
went  on  to  say,  '  There  is  a  Lord  in  your  country  (I  was  a 
little  surprised  at  this  beginning,  knowing,  as  I  do,  what  stuff" 
our  Irish  peers  are  made  of), — he  is  a  son  to  a  Duke  ;  is  he 
not  a  patriot  ? '  I  immediately  recognized  my  friend  Lord 
Edward  Fitzgerald,  and  gave  Hoche  a  very  good  account  of 
him." 

Hoche  had  pledged  himself  that,  in  the  course  of  the  au- 
tumn, the  expedition  should  sail  ;  and,  as  far  as  the  military 
part  of  the  preparations  was  concerned,  it  appears  that  in  the 


142  MEMOIRS    OF 

month  of  September  all  was  ready.  But,  from  Yarious  delays 
and  difficulties,  interposed  chiefly  by  the  Department  of  the 
Marine,  it  was  not  till  the  15th  of  December  that  this  noble 
armament  sailed  from  Brest,  consisting  of  IT  sail  of  the  line, 
13  frigates,  and  an  equal  number  of  transports,  making  in  all, 
43  sail,  and  having  on  board  an  army  of  near  15,000  men. 

It  was  the  opinion  of  Xapoleon,  as  recorded  somewhere  in 
his  Conversations,  that,  had  Hoche  landed  with  this  fine  army 
in  Ireland,  he  would  have  been  successful :  and,  taking  into 
account  the  utterly  defenceless  state  of  that  country  at  the 
moment,  as  well  as  the  certainty  that  an  immense  proportion 
of  the  population  would  have  declared  for  the  invaders,  it  is 
not  too  much  to  assert  that  such  would,  in  all  probability,  have 
been  the  result.  For  six  days,  during  which  the  shattered 
remains  of  their  fleet  lay  tossing  within  sight  of  the  Irish 
shore,  not  a  single  British  ship  of  war  made  its  appearance  ; 
and  it  was  also  asserted,  without  being  met  by  any  contradic- 
tion, in  the  House  of  Commons,  that  such  was  the  unprotected 
state  of  the  South,  at  that  moment,  that,  had  but  5,000  men 
been  landed  at  Bantry,*  Cork  must  have  fallen. 

But  while,  in  all  that  depended  upon  the  foresight  and 
watchfulness  of  their  enemy,  free  course  was  left  to  the  in- 
vaders, both  by  sea  and  land,  in  every  other  point  of  view 
such  a  concurrence  of  adverse  accidents,  such  a  combination 

*  There  were,  after  this  event,  batteries  erected  at  Bantry ;  but, 
owing  to  the  great  extent  of  the  bay,  it  appears  that  no  batteries, 
without  the  aid  of  a  considerable  force,  could  prevent  a  landing  at 
this  point.  It  was  the  opinion  of  Sir  Ralph  Abercrombie  that  the 
Shannon  and  Galway  were  the  most  assaihxble  parts  of  the  islaiid  ;  and 
the  same  opinion,  as  regards  Galway.  had  been  before  advanced  in  a 
curious  pamphlet  "  On  the  Defence  of  Ireland  "  (by  Colonel  Keating, 
1  believe),  published  in  1795.  "  Of  the  many  parts,"  sa^'s  this  writei-, 
"  of  the  island  where  landing  in  great  force  is  possible,  Galway  is  the 
most  practicable,  because  the  navigation  is  most  favourable,  as  also 
that,  the  enemy  should  keep  us  longer  in  suspense  as  to  his  real  point 
of  attack ;  besides  the  p.iculiar  advantages  that  bay  offers,  the  excel- 
lent posts  its  shores  afford,  and  the  peculiar  facility  with  Avhich  an 
advance  into,  and  conquest  of,  first  the  province  of  Connaught,  and 
subsequently  of  the  whole  kingdom  might  be  effected." 

Dr.  Mac^sevin,  in  his  Memoir  laid  before  the  French  Directory,  re- 
commended Oyster  Haven,  as  the  best  place  of  debarkation  in  the 
South,  and  Lough  Swilly  in  the  North. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  143 

of  all  that  is  most  thwarting  in  fortune  and  in  the  elements,  no 
expedition,  since  the  Armada,  had  ever  been  doomed  to  en- 
counter. Not  to  mention  the  various  difficulties  that  for  near 
a  month  delayed  their  embarkation,  during  the  whole  of  wliich 
time  the  wind  blew  direct  for  Ireland,  on  the  very  first  night 
of  their  departure  a  seventy-four  of  the  squadron  struck  upon 
the  rocks  and  was  lost  ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  frigate  La 
Fraternite,  on  board  which,  by  an  inexplicably  absurd  ar- 
rangement, were  both  the  General  in  Chief  of  the  Army  and 
the  Admiral,  was  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  squadron,  and 
saw  no  more  of  them  till  their  return  to  Brest.  To  the  inaus- 
piciousness  of  this  commencement,  every  succeeding  day 
added  some  new  difficulty,  till,  at  length,  after  having  been  no 
less  than  four  times  dispersed  by  fogs  and  foul  weather,  the 
remains  of  the  armament  found  themselves  off  Bantry  Bay, 
the  object  of  their  destination,  reduced  from  43  sail  to  16,  and 
with  but  6,500  fighting  men  on  board. 

Even  then  had  some  more  daring  spirit  presided  over  their 
movements,"^  a  landing  with  the  force  that  remained  would 
have  been  hazarded,  and,  considering  the  unguarded  state  of 
the  countrv,  at  the  moment,  with  everv  chance  of  success. 
Fortunately,  however,  for  the  rulers  of  Ireland,  General 
Grouchy,  who  had  succeeded  Hoche  in  the  command,  hesitated 
at  such  a  responsibility  ;f  and,  after  a  day  or  two  lost  in  idly 
cruising  off  the  Bay,  such  a  tremendous  gale  set  in,  right  from 
shore,  as  rendered  a  landing  impracticable,  and  again  scat- 
tered them  over  the  waters.  Nothing  was  left,  therefore,  but 
to  return,  how  they  could,  to  France  ;  and,  of  all  this  for- 
midable armament,  but  four  ships  of  the  line,  two  frigates  and 
one  lugger,  arrived  together  at  Brest  :  while  Hoche  himself, 
who,  in  setting  out,  had  counted  so  confidently  on  the  success 
of  the  expedition,  that  one  of  his  last  acts  had  been  to  urge 

*  "Si,  du  moins  la  presence  d'esprit  des  commandans  secondairos 
poiivait  suppleer  a  I'abseuce  du  Chef.  Mais  non  ;  el yignes  de  Hoche, 
ils  semblent  avoir  perdu  toutes  leurs  facultes." — Vie  de  Lazare  Hoche. 

f  At  this  anxious  moment,  Tone,  who  was  on  board,  writes  in  his 
Diary, — "  At  half  after  one,  the  Atalante,  one  of  our  missing  corvettes, 
hove  in  sight,  so  now  again  we  are  in  hopes  to  see  the  General.  Oh, 
if  he  were  in  Grouchy's  place,  he  would  not  hesitate  one  moment" 


144  MEMOIRS    OF 

on  the  Directory  the  speedy  outfit  of  a  second,*  found  liimself 
obliged,  after  an  equally  fruitless  visit  to  Bantry  Bay,  to  make 
his  way  back  to  France,  not  having  seen  a  single  sail  of  his 
scattered  fleet  the  whole  time,  and  being  at  last  indebted  to  a 
small  chaloupe  for  putting  him  on  shore,  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  about  a  league  from  La  Rochelle. 

This  narrow  escape,  not  alone  of  invasion,  but,  perhaps, 
actual  conquest,  for  which  Ireland  was  now  indebted  to  chance 
and  the  elements,  would,  if  read  aright,  have  proved  a  vrarn- 
ing,  as  useful  as  it  was  awful,  to  each  of  the  two  parties  on 
whose  heads  rested  the  responsibility  of  having  drawn  down  on 
their  country  so  fearful  a  visitation.  That  confidence  in  the 
inviolability  of  their  shores  which  the  people  of  the  British 
isles  had,  under  the  guardianship  of  their  navy,  being  so  long 
accustomed  to  indulge,  was  now  startled  from  its  security  by 
the  incontestable  fact,  that,  with  two  British  fleets  in  the 
Channel,  and  an  Admiral  stationed  at  Cork,  the  coasts  of  Ire- 
land had  been,  a  whole  fortnight,  at  the  mercy  of  the  enemy. 
With  such  a  proof  before  their  eyes  of  the  formidable  facility 
with  which  the  avenger  could  appear  at  the  call  of  the 
w^ronged,  it  was,  even  yet,  not  too  late  for  the  government  to 
pause  in  the  harsh  system  which  they  had  adopted, — to  try 
whether  concession  might  not  make  friends  of  those  whom 
force  could  hardly  keep  subjects,  and  thus  disarm  of  its  worst 
terrors  the  enemy,  from  witiiout,  by  depriving  him  of  his  alli- 
ance with  the  malcontent  within. 

On  the  other  hand,  that  large  portion  of  the  nation,  so  long 
at  issue  with  their  rulers,  whose  impatience  under  insults  and 
wrongs, — some  of  them  of  the  date  of  centuries, — had  thus 
driven  them  to  seek  the  arbitrement  of  a  foreign  sword,  could 
not  but  see,  in  the  very  shape  which  this  interposition  had 
assumed,  enough  to  alarm  them  as  to  the  possible  consequences 
of  the  alternative  they  had  chosen.  Instead  of  the  limited 
force  which  they  had  asked — a  limitation  which  Lord  Edward, 
among  others,  would  have  made  the  condition  of  their  accept- 
ing any  aid  whatever, — they  saw  a  powerful  armament  sent 

*  "Sa  clerniere  pensee,  en  quittant  la  terre,  est  toute  remplie  deja 
dii  desir  de  la  secoade  expedition, — tant  il  est  sur  du  sncces  de  la  pre- 
miere. Sa  derniere  parole  au  Direetoire  est  pour  reeommander  a  sa 
solicitude  le  second  depart." — Vie  de  Hoche. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  145 

forth,  under  one  of  the  Republic's  most  aspiring  generals, — 
one  equal  to  Napoleon  himself  in  ambition  and  daring,  and 
second  only  to  him  in  the  endowments  that  ensure  to  these 
qualities,  success  ;  nor  could  those  among  them,  who  sought 
singly  and  sincerely  the  independence  of  their  country,  refrain 
from  harbouring  some  fear,  that  auxiliaries  thus  presenting 
themselves  came  not  so  much  to  befriend  a  part  of  the  popu- 
lation as  to  make  conquest  of  the  whole. 

Such  were  the  considerations  and  warnings  which  must  now 
have  occurred  to  the  minds  of  thiniving  men  of  both  parties, 
and  which  ought  to  have  disposed  them  earnestly  to  avail 
themselves  of  whatever  sense  of  their  common  danger  had 
been  awakened,  to  bring  about  such  a  compromise  of  their  dif- 
ferences as  should  benefit  alike  both  the  governing  and  the 
governed,  and  by  making  the  people  more  free  render  the 
throne  more  secure.  And  it  is  to  the  honour  of  those  whose 
cause,  however  mixed  up  with  a  ''  worser  spirit,"  was  still 
essentially  the  great  cause  of  freedom  and  tolerance,"^  and  had 
on  its  side  the  inextinguishable  claims  of  right  against  wrong, 
that  by  them  alone  were  any  steps,  at  this  juncture,  taken 
towards  such  a  reconcilement  of  the  State  and  the  People  to 
each  other.  After  the  failure  of  the  expedition,  the  chief 
leaders  of  the  United  Irishmen,  acting,  no  doubt,  upon  such 
views  of  the  crisis  as  I  have  above  supposed,  held  a  commu- 
nication with  the  principal  members  of  Opposition  in  Parlia- 
ment, and  professed  their  readiness  to  co-operate  in  affording  the 
government  one  more  chance  of  reclaiming,  even  yet,  the  alle- 
giance of  the  people,  by  consenting  to  even  so  modified  a  mea- 
sure of  Reform  as  their  legitimate  Representatives  in  Parlia- 
ment might  think  it  prudent  to  propose. 

A  Bill  to  this  effect  was,  in  consequence,  prepared  by  Mr. 
Ponsonby,y  and  we  have  it  on  the  authority  of  the   rebel 

*  In  conversing  once  with  Mr.  Flood  on  the  subject  of  the  civil  war 
between  Charles  I.  and  his  people,  Lord  Chatham  said,  "There  was 
mixed  with  the  public  cause,  in  that  struggle,  ambition,  sedition,  and 
A'iolence ;  but  no  man  will  persuade  me  that  it  was  not  the  cause  of 
liberty  on  one  side  and  of  tyranny  on  the  other."  Tlie  same  may  be 
said,  with  no  less  truth,  of  the  striiggle  in  Ireland  at  this  period. 

f  The  leading  features  of  this  plan  of  Reform  are  contained  in  the 
following  resolutions : 

"  That  it  is  indispensably  necessary  to  a  fundamental  Reform  of  the 
Representation  that  all  disabilities,  on  account  of  religion,  be  for  evev 


146  IfEMOIRS    OF 

leaders  engaged  in  the  transaction,  that  "if,  in  the  course  of 
that  effort  for  Reform,  it  had  not  become  evident  that  success 
was  hopeless,  it  was  the  wish  of  many  among  them,  and  they 
believed  the  Executive  would  have  gladly  embraced  the  oppor- 
tiiuity,  to  decline  holding  any  further  intercourse  with  France, 
except  sending  a  messenger  there  to  tell  them  that  the  dilfer- 
ence  between  the  government  and  the  people  had  been  ad- 
justed, and  that  they  would  have  no  business  a  second  time 
to  attempt  a  landing."* 

I  have  dwelt  thus  long  on  the  circumstances  connected  with 
this  first  attempt  at  invasion,  both  on  account  of  the  share 
taken  by  Lord  Edward  in  the  negotiations  which  led  to  it, 
and  because  the  hope  of  a  reconciliation  that  then  so  fleetingly 
presented  itself  afforded  a  brief  resting-place  whereon  we  might 
pause  and  contemplate  the  relative  positions  of  the  two  parties 
engaged  in  the  struggle.  It  was  soon  seen  that  all  hopes  of  a 
change  of  policy  in  the  government,  except  from  bad  to  worse, 
w^ere  utterly  fallacious.  Whether  conciliatory  measures  might 
yet  have  averted  the  conflict  must  be  a  question  of  mere  con- 
jecture ;  but  that  the  reverse  system  drove  the  country  into 
rebellion,  and  nearly  severed  it  from  England,  has  become 
matter  of  history.     In  the  train  of  the  insurrection  Act  and 

abolished,  and  that  Catholics  shall  be  admitted  into  the  legislature, 
and  ail  the  great  offices  of  state,  in  the  same  extent,  <fec.  as  Protestants 
now  are. 

'•  Tliat  it  is  the  indispensable  right  of  the  people  of  Ireland  to  be 
fully  and  fairl}'  represented  in  Parliament. 

"  That,  in  order  that  the  people  ma}'  be  fully  enabled  to  exercise 
that  right,  the  privilege  of  returning  members  for  cities,  boroughs,  etc. 
in  the  present  form,  shall  cease ;  that  each  county  be  divided  into  dis- 
tricts, consisting  of  6000  houses  each,  each  district  to  return  2  mem- 
bers to  Parliament.'' 

"  That,  all  persons  possessing  freehold  property  to  the  amount  of 
forty  pounds  per  annum ;  all  possessed  of  lease  interests  to  the  value 
of  ;  all  possessed  of  a  house  of  the  value  of 

;  all  who  have  resided  for  a  certain  number  of  years  in 
any  great  city  or  town,  following  a  trade;  and  all  who  shall  be  free 
of  any  city,  &c.  by  birth,  marriage  or  servitude,  shall  vote  for  mem- 
bers of  Parliament. 

"  That  seats  in  Parliament  shall  endure  for  number  of 

years." 
[I'he  blanks  left  to  be  filled  up  at  the  discretion  of  the  House.] 

:j:  Memoir  delivered  to  the  Irish  Government  by  Messrs.  Emmet, 
O'Connor,  and  MacXevin. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  147 

the  Indemnity  Bill,  soon  followed,  as  the  natural  course  of 
such  legislation,  the  suspension  of  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act, 
inquisitorial  tribunals  under  the  name  of  Secret  Committees, 
and,  lastly,  Martial  Law,  with  all  its  frightful  accompaniments 
of  free  quarters,  burnings,  picketings  to  extort  confession,  and 
every  other  such  infliction. 

To  talk  of  Reform  to  a  government  launched  in  such  a 
career  seemed  little  less  than  mockery.  But,  as  a  last  asser- 
tion of  principles  which,  had  they  been  acted  upon,  w^ould 
have  saved  all  this  ruin,  the  Opposition  party  in  Parliament 
thought  it  due  to  themselves  to  bring  forward  their  measure.* 
Once  more  was  the  wise  eloquence  of  Grattan  heard  above  the 
storm, — but  as  unavailingly  as  folly  itself,  in  its  hour  of  tri- 
umph, could  desire.  "  First  subdue  and  then  reform "  was 
the  sole  answer  he  received  from  those,  who,  he  well  knew^, 
could  only  be  trusted  for  the  former  of  these  two  processes. 
After  a  firm  and  final  protest  against  the  wiiole  system  now 
pursued,  this  illustrious  man,  followed  by  the  small  minority 
that  yet  remained,  withdrew,  in  disgust,  from  the  House,  leav- 
ing the  government, — as  now  reprobate  beyond  all  hope, — to 
itself,  and  thus  adding  his  own  and  his  party's  despair  to  that 
of  the  nation.  The  effects  of  this  session  upon  the  minds  of 
the  people  were  rendered  still  more  impressive  by  the  refusal 
of  Mr.  Grattan  and  Lord  Henry  Fitzgerald  to  stand  candi- 
dates at  the  ensuing  election  ;  and  such  language  as  the  fol- 
lowing, which  occurs  in  one  of  Mr.  Grattan's  addresses  on  the 

*  That  the  present  is  seldom  more  than  a  mere  echo  of  the  Past  is 
a  remark  of  which  the  following  passage  from  Mr.  Grattan's  Answer 
to  a  Pamphlet  of  Lord  Clare  att'ords  strong  illustration.  The  sanie 
objections  to  Reform,  and  the  same  answers  to  them,  are  as  rife  and 
ready  in  1831  as  in  1797.  "  It  was  objected,  first,  that  the  plan  did 
not  give  satisfaction, — in  that  the  most  vehement  partisans  of  Parlia- 
mentary Reform  had  signified  their  disapprobation ;  secondly,  that 
the  plan  opened  the  way  to  another  plan,  or  to  the  project  of  persojial 
representation.  It  became  highly  expedient,  therefore,  bef<)re  any 
other  plan  was  submitted  to  the  cousiderarion  of  Parliament,  to  be 
able  to  assure  that  august  body,  that  such  plan  wonld  give  general 
satisfaction,  and  put  an  end  to  the  project  of  persoi:al  rep!'e--:e!ita.ion. 
Th^  persons  concerned  in  ihe  forming  that,  plan  did  accordingly  ob- 
tain from  the  North  of  Ireland,  and,  moreover,  from  the  advocares 
of  personal  representation,  authority  to  declare  in  Parliament  that, 
if  the  plan  of  1797  should  pass,  they  would  rest  satisfied." 


148 


MEMOIRS    OF 


subject,*  shows  that,  to  whatever  degree  he  may  nave  blamed 
some  of  the  acts  of  those  leagued  against  government,  his 
every  feeling  went  thoroughly  and  unreservedly  with  their 
cause.  "  When  the  country  is  put  down,  the  press  destroyed, 
and  public  meetings,  for  the  purpose  of  exercising  the  right  of 
petition,  are  threatened  and  dispersed,  I  agree  with  you  that 
a  general  election  is  no  more  than  an  opportunity  to  exercise, 
by  permission  of  the  army,  the  solitary  privilege  of  returning 
a  few  representatives  of  the  people  to  a  House  occupied  by  the 
representatives  of  boroughs. "f 

In  the  mean  time,  while  these  events  were  taking  place, 
negotiations  had  been  again  opened  between  the  government 
of  France  and  the  Chiefs  of  the  United  Irishmen  ;  and  the 
latter,  thinking  it  expedient  for  the  purpose  of  more  regular 
communication,  to  have  a  resident  re})resentative  in  Paris, 
despatched  thither,  in  the  spring  of  this  year,  Mr.  E.  J.  Le- 
wines,J  with  powers  to  act  as  their  accredited  minister  to  the 
French  Republic.  This  gentleman  was  also  instructed  to  ne- 
gotiate, if  possible,  a  loan  of  half  a  million,  or  £300,000  with 
either  France  or  Spain. 

Somewhat  later  in  the  year  an  agent  was,  it  appears,  sent 
over  by  the  Frencli  Directory  to  collect  information  respecting 
the  state  of  Ireland  ;  but  being  unable,  for  want  of  the  ne- 
cessary passi)orts,  to  proceed  any  farther  than  London,  he 
wrote  to  request  that  some  confidential  member  of  the  Union 
should  be  sent  thither  to  meet  him,  and  Lord  Edward  Fitz- 
gerald, as  being  most  competent  to  give  intelligence  respecting 

*  It  was  from  this  Address  that  Mr.  Isaac  Corr}-  read  some  extracts 
in  the  course  of  lliat  violent  speech  which  gave  rise  to  tlie  duel  be- 
tween him  and  Mr.  Gi-attan  iu  1800,— nricuing  that  they  "preached 
the  doctrine  of  insurrection  under  the  name  of  liberty,  and  led  to  the 
rebellion  that  followed." 

j-  "  Leaders  as  veil  as  followers  now  began  to  get  wearied  with  the 
protracted  struggle  against  the  venality  and  corruption  of  Parliament, 
and  the  memorable  secession  of  the  popular  members  from  the  House 
of  Commons  having  been  determined  upon,  I  made  one  of  a  deputa- 
tion (including  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  and  Arihur  O'Connor;  ap- 
pointed to  carry  an  address  to  ^lessrs.  Grattan,  Curran,  and  Geoi-ge 
Ponsonby,  requeslit;g  them  to  discontinue  the  mischievous  mockery 
of  attending  rarliament.  The  request  was  complied  with." — Cloncur- 
rii'fi  3Ie/noirs. 

:};  Lewines  died  in  Paris  in  Dec.  1827,  and  his  remains  were  interred 
in  the  cemetery  of  Pere  la  Chaise. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  14^ 

the  military  preparation  of  the  country,  was  the  person  des- 
patched with  that  view. 

So  impatient  were  the  people  of  the  North,  at  this  moment, 
to  rise,  that  it  was  with  difficulty  the  Chiefs  of  the  Union  suc- 
ceeded in  restraining  them  ;  and  it  was  only  by  assurances  of 
a  speedy  aid  from  France,  such  as  should  put  success  beyond 
peril,  that  the  United  Irishmen  of  Ulster,  amounting  then  to 
DO  less  than  100,000  men,  organised  and  regimented,  could  be 
prevented  from  rising.  To  press  therefore,  the  despatch  of 
the  succours  from  France  was  now  the  great  object  of  the 
Irish  Executive,  and,  in  the  month  of  June,  one  of  the  most 
active  of  their  body,  Dr.  MacNevin,*  set  out  on  a  special 
mission  to  Paris  for  that  purpose.  He  found  the  French 
authorities,  notwithstanding  the  delusive  negotiations  which, 
with  the  professed  object  of  peace,  they  were  about  to  enter 
into  with  England,  fully  disposed  to  second  his  most  hostile 
views.  It  was,  however,  by  the  Batavian  Republic  that  the 
honour  had  now  been  claimed  of  taking  the  lead  in  an  expedi- 
tion for  the  invasion  of  Ireland  ;  and  a  powerful  armament 
had  been  accordingly  collected  at  the  Texel,  consisting  of  fif- 
teen sail  of  the  line,  ten  frigates,  and  twenty-seven  sail  of 
transports,  carrying  a  land  force  to  the  amount  of  near  four- 
teen thousand  men.  And  here  again  we  see  the  good  genius 
of  England  interposing  to  avert  from  her  the  deserved  conse- 
quences of  her  own  Tory  councils.  Had  this  great  armament 
been  in  readiness  but  a  few  weeks  sooner,  when  the  mutinies 
of  the  English  fleets  had  left  the  sea  open,  and  even  a  part  of 
the  very  squadron  now  watching  off  the  Texel  had  deserted  to 
the  mutineers, — could  the  invader  have  taken  advantage  of 
that  most  critical  moment,  when  not  only  a  rebel  array  would 
have  received  them  on  the  shores  of  Ireland,  but  a  mutineer 
fleet  most  probably,  joined  him  in  her  waters, — what  a  change 

*  Dr.  Wra.  James  MacXevin  was  born  at  Ballynahowne  county  Gal- 
way,  1763.  He  was  educated  at  Prague  and  graduated  in  Vienna; 
after  his  return  to  Ireland  he  became  a  United  Irishman, — he  was  ar- 
rested in  1798, — imprisoned  in  Kihnainham,  and  subsequently  refnov- 
ed  with  the  other  State  Prisoners  to  Fort  George;  afier  his  liberation 
in  1803,  he  entered  the  French  army  as  Ca[)tain  in  the  Irish  Brigade 
in  hopes  of  being  of  use  to  his  native  country;  disappointed  in  his  ex- 
pectations, he  resigned  his  commission  and  sailed  for  New  York;  he 
died  in  1841. 


150  MEMOIRS    OF 

might  then  have  been  wrought  in  the  destinies  of  the  British 
Empire  ! 

Fortunately,  however,  for  that  empire,  the  chances  deter- 
mined otherwise.  Having  let  pass  the  favourable  moment 
which  the  difficulties  of  England  presented,  the  Dutch  fleet 
was,  from  the  beginning  of  July,  locked  up  by  a  long  course 
of  adverse  winds  in  the  Texel  ;  till,  at  length,  the  provisions 
laid  in  for  the  expedition  being  nearly  exhausted,  it  was  found 
necessary  to  disembark  the  troops  ;  and  the  Dutch  govern- 
ment having,  by  a  rashness  of  resolve  for  which  no  intelligible 
motive  has  ever  been  assigned,  ordered  their  admiral  to  put  to 
sea  and  engage  the  British  fleet,  that  memorable  action  en- 
sued, off  Camperdown,  which  terminated,  as  is  well  known,  in 
one  of  the  most  splendid  victories  that  have  ever  adorned  the 
annals  of  Great  Britain. 

Meanwhile,  affairs  in  Ireland  were  hurrying  to  their  crisis  ; 
and  events  and  scenes  crowded  past,  in  fearful  succession,  of 
which, — if  i)ersonal  feelings  may  be  allowed  to  mingle  them- 
selves with  such  a  narrative, — so  vivid  is  my  own  recollection, 
I  could  not  trust  myself  to  dwell  upon  them,  Tliough  then 
but  a  youth  in  college,  and  so  many  years  have  since  gone  by, 
the  impression  of  horror  and  indignation  which  the  acts  of 
the  government  of  that  city  left  u|)on  my  mind  is,  I  confess, 
at  this  moment,  far  too  freshly  alive  to  allow  me  the  due  calm- 
ness of  a  historian  in  speaking  of  them.  Not  only  had  I 
myself,  from  early  childhood,  taken  a  passionate  interest  in 
that  struggle  which,  however  darkly  it  ended,  began  under  the 
bright  auspices  of  a  Grattan,  but  among  those  young  men 
whom,  after  my  entrance  into  college,  I  looked  up  to  with 
most  admiration  and  regard,  the  same  enthusiasm  of  national 
feeling  prevailed.  Some  of  them,  too,  at  the  time  of  terror 
and  torture  I  am  now  speaking  of,  were  found  to  have  impli- 
cated themselves  far  more  deeply  in  the  popular  league  against 
power  than  I  could  ever  have  suspected  ;  and  these  I  was 
now  doomed  to  see,  in  their  several  wavs,  victims, — victims  of 
that  very  ardour  of  patriotism  which  had  been  one  of  the 
sources  of  my  affection  for  them,  and  in  which,  through  al- 
most every  step  but  the  last,  my  sympathies  had  gone  along 
with  them. 

One, — considerablv  mv  senior,  and  not  in  the  universitv, — 
who,  by  his  industry  and  taste  in  collecting  old  Irish  airs,  and 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  151 

the  true  national  expression  with  which  he  performed  them  on 
the  flute,  contributed  to  nurse  in  me  a  strong  feeling  for  our 
country's  music,  if  he  be  still  alive,  is  now  languishing  in 
exile.*  Another,  whose  literary  talents,  and  mild,  manly  cha- 
racter gave  every  promise  of  a  bright,  if  not  splendid  career, 
was  under  the  ban  of  a  collegiate  sentence  which  incapacitat- 
ed him  from  all  the  learned  professions,  driven  to  a  line  of 
employment  the  least  congenial  to  his  tastes,  where,  through 
the  remainder  of  a  short,  amiable  life,  his  fine  talents  lay  use- 
less ;  while  a  third,  young  Emmet,  but  escaped  with  the  same 
branding  sentence  to  be  reserved  for  that  most  sad,  but  mem- 
orable, doom,  to  which  despair,  as  well  of  himself  as  of  his 
country,  at  last  drove  him.y 

Of  this  latter  friend,  notwithstanding  his  own  dying  en- 
treaty that  the  world  would  extend  to  him  "  the  charity  of 
its  silence,"  |  I  cannot  deny  myself  the  gratification  of  adding 
a  few  words,  conscious  that,  at  least,  the  spirit  of  his  wish 

*  When,  in  consequence  of  the  compact  entered  into  between  gov- 
ernment and  the  chief  leaders  of  the  conspiracy,  the  State  Prisoners, 
before  proceeding  into  exile,  were  allowed  to  see  their  friends,  I  paid 
a  visit  to  this  gentleman  in  the  jail  of  Kilmainham,  where  he  had  lain 
immured  for  four  or  live  months,  hearing  of  friend  after  friend  being 
led  out  to  death,  and  expecting  every  week  his  own  turn  to  come.  As 
paiutiiig  was  one  of  his  tastes,  I  found  that,  to  amuse  his  solitude,  he 
had  made  a  large  drawing  with  charcoal  on  the  wall  of  his  prison  re- 
presenting that  fancied  origin  of  the  Irish  Harp,  which  some  vears 
after,  I  adopted  as  the  subject  of  one  of  the  Melodies: — 

"  'Twas  a  Syren  of  old,"  <te. 

f  As,  in  England,  by  a  natural  and,  at  one  time,  no  very  calumni- 
ous mistake,  the  term  ''  rebel "'  is  looked  upon  as  synonymous  with 
*'  Catholic,"  it  may  be  as  well  to  mention  that  these  three  young  men 
were  (^like  most  of  the  leading  persons  of  the  conspirac}-)  Protestants. 

X  "  The  grave  opens  to  receive  me: — all  I  ask  of  the  world  is  the 
charity  of  its  silence.  Let  no  man  write  my  epitaph ;  for,  as  none 
who  knows  my  motives  dares  justify  them,  so  let  none  who  is  igno- 
rant of  them  dare  to  asperse  them.  Let  my  tomb  remain  uninscribed, 
till  other  times  and  other  men  shall  learn  to  do  justice  to  mv  memo- 
ry." 1  quote  these  sentences  from  recollection,  and  the  noble  speech 
of  which  they  form  a  part,  was  delivered  by  him,  before  receiving 
Bentence,  ia  his  most  animated  and  energetic  manner,  after  having 
stood  tiiruugh  a  harassing  trial  of  twelve  hours'  duratio:i. 

To  the  passage  of  this  speech  just  quoted  (and  not,  as  is  sometimes 
supposed,  to  any  thing  connected  with  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,)  the 
Irish  Melody  beginning  "Oh  breathe  not  his  name,"  was  intended  to 
allude. 


152  MEMOIRS    OF 

will  not  be  violated  in  them.  Were  I  to  number,  indeed,  the 
men,  among  all  I  have  ever  known,  who  appeared  to  me  to 
combine,  in  the  greatest  degree,  pure  moral  worth  with  intel- 
lectual power,  I  should,  among  the  highest  of  the  few,  place 
Robert  Emmet.  Wholly  free  from  the  follies  and  frailties  of 
youth, — though  how  capable  he  was  of  the  most  devoted  pas- 
sion events  afterwards  proved, — the  pursuit  of  science,  in  which 
he  eminently  distinguished  himself,  seemed,  at  this  time,  the 
only  object  that  at  all  divided  his  thoughts  with  that  enthusi- 
asm for  Irisli  freedom  Avhich  in  him  was  an  hereditary  as  well 
as  national  feeling, — himself  being  the  second  martyr  his 
father  had  given  to  the  cause. 

Simple  in  all  his  habits,  and  with  a  repose  of  look  and  man- 
ner indicating  but  little  movement  within,  it  was  only  when 
the  spring  was  touched  that  set  his  feelings  and, — through 
them, — his  intellect  in  motion  that  he,  at  all,  rose  above  the 
level  of  ordinary  men.  On  no  occasion  was  this  more  peculi- 
arly striking  than  in  those  displays  of  oratory  with  which, 
both  in  the  Debating,  and  the  Historical,  Society,  he  so  often 
enchained  the  attention  and  sympathy  of  his  young  audience. 
No  two  individuals,  indeed,  could  be  much  more  unlike  to  each 
other  than  was  the  same  youth  to  himself,  before  rising  to 
speak,  and  after; — the  brow  that  had  appeared  inanimate 
and  almost  drooping  at  once  elevating  itself  in  all  the  consci- 
ousness of  power,  and  the  whole  countenance  and  figure  of  the 
speaker  assuming  a  change  as  of  one  suddenly  inspired. 

Of  his  oratory,  it  must  be  recollected,  I  speak  from  youth- 
ful impressions  ;  but  I  have  heard  little  since  that  appeared 
to  me  of  a  loftier  or  (what  is  a  far  more  rare  quality  in  Irish 
eloquence)  purer  character  ;  and  the  effects  it  produced,  as 
well  from  its  own  exciting  power,  as  from  the  susceptibility 
with  which  his  audience  caught  up  every  allusion  to  passing 
events,  was  such  as  to  attract  at  last  seriously  the  attention 
of  the  Fellows  ;  and  bv  their  desire  one  of  the  scholars,  a 
man  of  advanced  standing  and  reputation  for  oratory,  came 
to  attend  our  debates  expressly  for  the  purpose  of  answering 
Emmet,  and  endeavouring  to  neutralize  the  impressions  of  his 
fervid  eloquence. 

Such,  in  heart  and  mind,  was  another  of  those  devoted 
men,  who  with  gifts  that  would  have  made  them  the  orna- 
ments and  supports  of  a  well-regulated  community,  were  driven 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  ,        153 

to  live  the  lives  of  conspirators  and  die  tlie  death  of  traitors, 
by  a  system  of  governmeut  which  it  would  be  difficult  even  to 
think  of  with  patience,  did  we  not  gather  a  hope  fron)  the 
present  aspect  of  the  whole  civiUzed  world,  that  such  a  sys- 
tem of  bigotry  and  misrule  can  never  exist  again. 

With  Lord  Edward  I  could  liave  no  opportunity  of  form- 
ing any  acquaintance,  but  rememl)er  (as  if  it  had  been  but 
yesterday)  having  once  seen  hira,  in  the  year  1T97,  in  Grafton 
street, — when,  on  being  told  who  he  was,  as  he  passed,  I  ran 
anxiously  after  him,  desirous  of  another  looli  at  one  whose 
name  had,  from  my  school-days,  been  associated  in  my  mind 
with  all  that  was  noble,  patriotic,  and  chivalrous.  Though  I 
saw  him  but  this  once,  his  peculiar  dress,  the  elastic  lightness 
of  his  step,  his  fresh,  healthful  complexion,  and  the  soft  ex- 
pression given  to  his  eyes  by  their  long  dark  eyelashes,  are  as 
present  and  familiar  to  my  memory  as  if  I  had  intimately 
known  hhn.  Little  did  I  then  think  that,  at  an  interval  of 
four-and-thirty  years  from  thence, — an  interval  equal  to  the 
whole  span  of  his  life  at  that  period, — I  should  not  only  find 
myself  the  historian  of  his  mournful  fate,  but  (what  to  many 
Will  appear  matter  rather  of  shame  than  of  boast)  with  feel- 
ings so  little  altered,  either  as  to  himself  or  his  cause. 

Trusting  that  I  shall  meet  with  pardon  from  my  reader,  not 
so  much  for  the  digressiveness  of  these  last  few  pages, — which 
can  hardly,  perhaps,  be  said  to  have  much  wandered  from  the 
subject, — as  for  the  more  than  due  share  of  their  contents 
that  relate  personally  to  myself,  I  shall  now  proceed  with  the 
narrative  which  I  had  been  thus  tempted  to  interrupt. 

Towards  the  close  of  1797  the  fervour  of  the  insurrectionary 
spirit  had,  in  the  great  seat  of  its  strength,  the  North,  visibly 
abated  :  and  to  the  enforcement  of  martial  law  throughout 
Ulster,  during  the  summer,  that  party  whose  panacea  for  the 
ills  of  Ireland  had  been,  at  all  times,  and  under  all  circum- 
stances, the  bayonet,  were  anxious  to  attribute  this  change. 
But  though  the  seizure,  under  General  Lake's  proclamation  of 
so  large  a  quantity  of  arms,  must  have  a  good  deal  weakened 
the  means  of  the  United  Irish  in  that  quarter,  it  is  also  evident 
that  there  were  still  arms  enough  in  their  possession  to  give 
them  confidence  in  their  own  strength,  as  their  first  impulse 
was  to  rise  and  employ  them  against  their  despoilers.  This 
desu'e,  indeed,  seems  to  have  sprung  up,  in  the  very  wake  of 


154  MEMOIRS    OF 

martial  law,  throughout  the  whole  provhice,  and  the  objections 
and  obstacles  raised  by  most  of  the  Dublin  leaders,  -  from  a 
conviction,  as  they  themselves  state,  that,  without  French  aid, 
such  an  attempt  would  be  unavailing, — hrst  caused  that  dis- 
cordance of  views  between  the  Ulster  and  Leinster  delegates, 
which  continued  from  thenceforth  to  embarrass  the  counsels 
of  the  conspiracy,  and,  at  last,  contribute  to  its  failure. 

Notwithstanding  the  dissent,  however,  of  their  Dublin 
brethren,  some  of  the  more  sanguine  leaders  of  the  North  still 
persisted  in  their  endeavours  to  force  a  general  rising  ;  and 
Lowry,  Teeling,  and  others  proceeded  to  Dublin  to  concert 
measures  for  that  purpose.  A  plan  of  insurrection, — in  draw- 
ing up  which,  it  is  said,  some  Ifish  officers,  who  had  been  in 
the  Austrian  service,  assisted, — had  already  been  agreed  upon  ; 
and,  what  was  far  more  important,  some  of  the  regiments  then 
on  duty  in  Dublin  having  received  intimation  of  the  intended 
design,  a  deputation  of  sergeants  from  the  Clare,  Kilkenny, 
and  Kildare  militias  waited  upon  the  provincial  committee  of 
Dublin  with  an  offer  to  seize,  in  the  name  of  the  Union,  the 
royal  barrack  and  the  castle,  without  requiring  the  aid  or  pre- 
sence of  a  single  citizen. 

This  proposal  was  immediately  laid  before  the  executive  ; 
and  Lord  Edward  most  strenuously  urged,  as  might  be  ex- 
pected, tlieir  acceptance  of  it.  But,  after  a  long  and  anxious 
discussion,  their  decision  was  to  decline  the  offer,  as  involving: 
a  risk  which  the  present  state  of  their  preparations  would  not 
justify  them,  they  thought  in  encountering.  The  whole  design 
was,  therefore,  abandoned,  and  its  chief  instigators,  Messrs. 
Ijowry,  Teeling,  and  Tennant, — the  first  a  member  of  the 
executive  committee  of  Ulster, — were  forced  to  fly  to  Ham- 
burgh. 

To  popular  ardour,  when  at  its  height,  the  postponement  of 
action  is  a  check  seldom  recovered  from  ;  and  it  is  the  opinion 
of  those  most  conversant  with  the  history  of  the  conspiracy, 
that  the  Leinster  leaders,  by  their  want  of  enterprise  and 
decision  at  this  moment,  let  pass  a  crisis  far  more  pregnant 
with  chances  of  success  than  any  ever  presented  to  them.* 

*  That  such  was  Tones  view  of  their  conduct,  as  far  as  he  could 
judge  from  the  reports  of  the  fugitives  who  had  joined  him  at  the 
Texel,  will  appear  from  the  following  passage  in  his  Diar3^ — "August, 


LORD  EDWARD  FITZGERALD.  155 

The  people  of  the  North,  who  had  been  induced  to  curb  their 
first  impulse  by  an  assurance  of  the  speedy  arrival  of  the 
French,  when  they  now  saw  weeks  pass  away  without  any 
appearance  of  the  i)romised  succours,  began  naturally  to  abate- 
in  their  zeal,  and  even  to  suspect  they  had  been  deceived. 
From  having  been  taught  thus  to  look  for  aid  to  others,  they 
lost  confidence  in  themselves  ;  and  an  interval  of  grace  being, 
at  the  same  time  proclaimed  by  the  government,  within  which 
those  who  submitted  and  gave  up  their  arms  were  to  receive 
full  pardon,  the  good  effects  of  such  rarely  tried  policy  were 
manifested  by  the  numbers  that,  in  all  parts  of  the  North, 
hastened  to  avail  themselves  of  it. 

To  these  causes  of  the  abatement  of  fervour  among  the 
Northerns  must  be  added  another  of  a  still  deeper  and  more 
important  kind,  which  began  to  come  into  operation  about  the 
middle  of  17 97,  and  from  that  time,  continued  not  only  to 
moderate  their  enthusiasm  in  the  conspiracy,  but  materially 
mfiuenced  the  character  of  the  rebellion  that  followed  ; — and 
this  w^as  the  growing  apprehension,  both  upon  political  and 
religious  grounds,  with  which  the  more  scrupulous  among  the 
Presbyterian  republicans  regarded  that  alliance,  which  the 
orsranization  of  the  Catholic  counties  was  now  admitting  into 
their  league..  Already  had  there,  for  some  time,  existed  among 

1797. — By  vrhat  Lowry  and  Tennant  tell  me,  there  seems  to  have 
been  a  great  want  of  spirit  in  the  leaders  in  Dublin.  I  suspected  it 
very  much  from  Lewine's  ac.couut,  thougli  I  saw  he  put  the  best  side 
out ;  but  I  am  now  sure  of  it.  However,  I  did  not  say  so  to  them, 
for  the  thing  is  past,  and  criticising  it  will  do  no  good,  but  the  reverse. 
The  people  liave  been  urgent  more  than  once  to  begin,  and,  at  one 
time,  eight  liundred  of  the  garrison  offered  to  give  up  tlie  barracks  of 
Dublin,  if  the  loaders  would  only  give  the  signal;  the  militia  were 
almost  to  a  man  gained  over,  and  numbers  of  tliese  poor  fellows  have 
fallen  victims  in  consequence.  It  is  hard  to  judge  at  this  distance, 
but  it  seems  to  me  to  have  been  an  unpardonable  weakness,  if  not 
downright  cowardice,  to  let  such  an  occasion  slip.  With  eight  hund- 
red of  the  garrison  and  the  barracks  to  begin  with,  in  an  hour  they 
would  have  had  the  whole  capital,  and  by  seizing  the  persons  of  half 
a  dozen  individuals,  paralj'zed  the  whole  government,  and,  in  my 
opinion,  accomplished  the  whole  revolution  by  a  single  proclamation. 
But,  as  I  said  alread}',  it  is  hard  to  judge  at  a  distance. — I  am  sur- 

Crised  that  Emmet  did  not  show  more  energy,  because  I  know  he  is  as 
rave  as  Cajsar  of  his  person.     It  seeni3  to  me  to  have  been  such  an 
ocoasioa  missed  as  we  can  hardlv  ever  see  return." 


156  MEMOIRJ?  OF 

tlie  lowor  orders  of  Catholics  nssoi'iations  known  by  t  lie  name  of 
Defenders,  halt'-politieal,  lialf-}»redatory  to  whieh  the  Ihiion  luid 
always  looked  as  a  sort  of  nursery  for  their  own  ehief  military 
force, — the  hardy  habits  of  these  freebooters  (for  such  they 
had  now  become)  and  their  familiarity  with  the  use  of  arms, 
appearing'  to  oiler  the  kind  of  material  out  of  which  good 
example  and  disci])line  might  succeed  in  making  soldiers. 

In  the  >»orth  the  United  Irishmen  and  the  Defenders, 
though  concurring  iu  iierce  enmity  to  the  state,  had  been  kept 
in  wholly  distinct  bodies,  as  well  by  the  ditrerence  of  their  re- 
ligious tenets,  as  by  the  grounds,  but  too  sufllcient,  which  the 
latter  had  for  considering  all  rresbyterians  as  foes,  Iu  most 
other  parts  of  Ireland,  however,  the  case  was  diftereut, 
AYherevcr  the  bulk  of  the  population  were  Catholics,  the 
Defenders  formed  the  chief  portion  of  the  United  force  ; — or, 
rather,  in  such  places,  the  system  of  the  Union  degenerated 
into  Defcnderism,  assnming  that  character  which  a  peojile, 
lawless  from  having  beeu  themselves  so  long  outlawed,  mii;'ht 
have  been  ex})ected  to  give  it.  Heuce  those  outrages  and 
crimes  which,  jjcrpetrated  under  the  nauie  of  United  Irishmen, 
brought  disgrace  upon  the  cause,  and  alarmed  more  especially 
its  Presbyterian  supj)orters,  who,  not  without  reason,  shrunk 
from  the  hazard  of  conmiittiug  the  interests  of  the  cause  of 
civil  and  religious  liberty  to  such  bauds.  Under  this  impres- 
sion it  was  tliat  the  leading  United  Irishmen  of  the  counties 
of  Down  and  Autrim  were  anxious  to  inculcate  the  uotiou 
that  the  rresbyterians  could  disjiense  with  Catholic  aid  ;  ami 
so  luuch  had  the  repugnance  of  the  two  sects  to  act  in  concert 
manifested  itself,  that  at  a  meeting  of  captains,  on  the  31st 
of  July,  at  Downpatrick,  strong  fears  were,  we  tiud,  expressed 
"  that  the  Dissenters  aud  Catholics  would  become  two  sepa- 
rate parties." 

But  though  this,  and  the  other  causes  I  have  adverted  to, 
had,  at  the  conuueucement  of  the  year  HOS,  a  good  deal 
checked  the  advance  of  tlie  consi)iracy  in  that  region  which 
had  given  it  birth  and  strength,  there  were  still  immense  num- 
bers organized  and  armed  throughout  the  North,  who,  under 
Protestant  leaders,^such  as  were,  at  this  time,  the  great  ma- 
jority of  the  United  chiefs, — would  have  felt  too  confident  in 
their  own  power  of  giving  a  direction  to  the  revolution  to  have 
any  fears  from  the  pi-edominance  of  their  outnumbering  allies. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  157 

Whatever  of  physical  strerijrth,  too,  mijrht  have  been  lost  to 
the  Union  in  Lister  had  been  more  than  a  hundred-fold  made 
uj)  V)y  the  spread  of  the  orffanization  elsewhere  ;  and  from  the 
returns  made,  in  the  month  of  Fe)>ruary  this  year,  to  Lord 
Edward,  as  head  of  the  military  committee,  it  appeared  that 
the  force  at  that  time  regimented  and  armed,  throughout  Ire- 
land, amounted  to  little  less  than  300,000  men. 

The  object  of  the  military  committee,  just  mentioned,  was 
to  prepare  a  plan  of  co-operation  with  the  invader,  or  of 
irtsurrection,  if  forced  to  it,  before  the  invader  came.  The 
hope  of  succours  from  France,  though  so  frequently  frustrat- 
ed, was  still  kept  sanguinely  alive,  and  to  the  arrival  of  an 
armament  in  April  they,  at  the  beginning  of  this  year  looked 
with  confidence, — the  strongest  assurances  having  been  given 
by  M.  Talleyrand  to  their  agent  at  Paris,  that  an  expedition 
was  in  forwardness,  and  would  be  ready  by  that  time. 

On  the  28th  of  Februarv  Lord  Edward's  friend,  Mr. 
Arthur  O'Connor,  was,  together  with  Quigley,  the  Irish  priest 
and  others,  arrested,  on  their  way  to  France,  at  Margate  ; 
and  a  paper  being  found  on  Quigley,  addressed  to  the  French 
directory,  inviting  earnestly  a  speedy  invasion  of  i]ngland,  the 
whole  party  were,  on  the  6th  of  March,  committed  to  the 
Tower,  on  a  charge  of  high-treason.  In  consequence  of  this 
arrest  the  office  of  the  Press  newspaper, — a  journal  which 
had  been  in  the  year  1797  established  in  Dublin,  for  the  ex- 
press purpose  of  forwarding  the  views  of  the  Union,*  and  of 
which  Mr.  O'Connor  had  lately  become  the  avowed  editor, — 
was  by  order  of  the  government  searched,  and  all  the  ma- 
terials and  papers  belonging  to  the  establishment  seized. 
"  Among  the  persons,"  says  a  ministerial  newspaper  of  the 
day,  "  who  were  in  the  house  where  the  Press  was  printed, 
were  found  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  and  Counsellor  Samp- 
soa.f     Lord  Edward  seemed  peculiarly  affected  by  the  visit 

*  In  this  newspaper  the  author  of  the  present  Memoir  confesses  to 
have  made  his  first  essay  as  a  writer  of  prose ;  and  among  those  ex- 
tracts from  its  columns  which  are  appended  to  the  Report  of  the  Se- 
cret Committee,  for  the  purpose  of  showing  the  excited  state  of  pubhc 
feeling  at  that  period,  there  aie  some  of  which  the  blame  or  the  merit 
must  rest  with  an  author  wlio  had  then  but  just  turned  hi?  seventeenth 
year. 

f  See  the  Memoirs  of  William  Sampson  (Letter  L),  for  a  more  full 


158  MEMOIRS    OF 

of  the  magistrate,  and  interested  himself  much  to  comfort  the 
woman  of  the  house,  who  had  been  brouf^ht  by  miscliievous 
dehislons  into  embarrassment  and  trouble  ;  and  offered  her 
and  her  family  a  residence  in  his  own  house,  as  some  com- 
pensation," 

It  being  now  clear'  that,  with  or  without  French  aid,  the 
struf^gle  must  soon  come,  Lord  Edward  and  his  colleagues 
urged  on,  with  redoubled  zeal,  the  preparations  for  the  en- 
counter. A  revolutionary  staff  was  formed,  and  an  adjutant- 
general  appointed  in  each  county  to  transmit  returns  to  the 
executive  of  the  strength  and  state  of  their  respective  forces, 
— to  report  the  nature  of  the  military  positions  in  their  neigh- 
bourhood, to  watch  the  movements  of  the  king's  troops,  and, 
in  short,  as  their  Instructions  *  (drawn  up  by  Lord  Edward 
himself)  direct,  to  attend  to  every  point  connected  with  the 
species  of  warfare  they  were  about  to  wage. 

In  this  formidable  train  were  affairs  now  proceeding  ;  nor 
would  it  be  possible,  perhaps,  to  find,  in  the  whole  compass 
of  history, — taking  into  account  the  stake,  the  odds,  the  peril, 
and  the  daring, — another  instance  of  a  conspiracy  assuming 
such  an  attitude.  But  a  blow^  was  about  to  fall  upon  them 
for  which  they  were  little  prepared.  Hazardous  as  had  been 
the  agency  of  the  chiefs,  at  every  step,  and  numerous  as^  were 
the  persons  necessarily  acquainted  with  their  proceedings,  yet 
so  well  contrived  for  secrecy  was  the  medium  throua'h  which 
they  acted,  and  by  such  fidelity  had  they  been  hitherto  fenced 
round,  that  the  government  could  not  reach  them.  How  lit- 
tle sparing  those  in  authority  would  have  been  of  rewards, 

account,  of  that  transaction:  that  in  the  ministerial  paper  was  incor- 
rect. Mr.  Sampson  was  there  as  counsel  for  Mr.  Stockdale;  Lord  Ed- 
ward was  not  there  at  all. — Am.  Ed. 

*  One  part  of  these  Instructions  ran  thus: — "  Those  in  the  maritime 
comities  are  charged,  on  the  first  a[)peara!ice  of  a  friendly  force  upon 
the  coast,  but  especiall}'  on  the  most  certain  informalion  being  had  of 
the  debarkation  of  our  allies,  to  commimioate  the  same,  in  the  most 
speedy  manner,  to  the  Executive.  They  must  then  immediately  collect 
tlieir  force  and  march  forward,  with  as  many  of  the  yeomanry  and 
militia  as  possible,  each  man  to  be  provided  with  at  least  three  days' 
subsistence,  and  to  bring  all  the\'  can  of  carts,  draft-horses,  horses 
harnessed,  and  horses  to  mount  cavalry,  with  three  or  four  days'  for- 
age ;  taking  care  to  seize  nowhere  the  property  of  a  patriot  where  an 
enemy  can  be  found  to  raise  contributions  on." 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  159 

their  prodigality  to  their  present  informer  proved.  But  few 
or  none  had  yet  been  tempted  to  betray  ;  and,  in  addition  to 
the  characteristic  fidelity  of  the  Irish  in  such  confederacies, 
the  same  hatred  of  the  law  which  had  made  the  traitors  to 
the  state  kept  them  true  to  each  other. 

It  is,  indeed,  not  the  least  singular  feature  of  this  singular 
piece  of  history,  that  with  a  government,  strongly  intrenched 
both  in  power  and  will,  resolved  to  crush  its  opponents,  and 
not  scrupulous  as  to  the  means,  there  should  now  have  elapsed 
two  whole  years  of  all  but  open  rebellion,  under  their  very 
eyes,  without  their  being  able,  either  by  force  or  money,  to 
obtain  sufficient  information  to  place  a  single  one  of  the  many 
chiefs  of  the  confederacy  in  their  power.  Even  now,  so  far 
from  their  vigilance  being  instrumental  in  the  discovery,  it 
was  but  to  the  mere  accidental  circumstance  of  a  worthless  mem- 
ber of  the  conspiracy  being  pressed  for  a  sum  of  money  to  dis- 
charge some  debts,  that  the  government  was  indebted  for  the 
treachery  that,  at  once,  laid  the  whole  plot  at  their  feet, — 
delivered  up  to  them  at  one  seizure  almost  all  its  leaders,  and 
thus  disorganizing,  by  rendering  it  headless,  the  entire  body 
of  the  Union,  was  the  means,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say,  of 
saving  the  country  to  Great  Britain."^ 

*  "  "When  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  spoke  to  me  of  Reynolds,  which 
was  not  until  early  in  March,  as  one  of  the  Kildare  colonels  chosen 
til  rough  his  influence,  I  was  alarmed,  and  acquainted  him  with  my 
strong  dislike  and  distrust  of  that  man.  He  thought  me  over  cautious ; 
but  it  was  to  the  bad  opinion  I  had  of  Reynolds  that  I  owed  my  safe- 
ty, that  I  escaped  from  a  snare  lie  laid  deliberately  against  my  life. 

'•  The  day  before  the  meeting  of  the  r2th  of  March,  he  called  at  my 
residence  twice  in  one  forenoon  without  finding  me.  The  seccJnd  time 
he  gave  my  servant  a  few  lines,  in  which  he  requested  I  would  inform 
him  where  the  Leinster  Provincial  was  to  hold  its  next  sitting,  and  to 
leave  a  note  for  him  before  I  went  out. 

"  His  asking  a  written  answer  to  such  a  question,  in  those  times, 
was  so  much  worse  than  folly,  that  it  struck  me  as  if  all  were  not 
right;  but  1  had  no  idea  of  the  extent  of  my  danger,  for  I  knew  noth- 
ing of  the  nature  of  the  confidence  reposed  in  him  b}'  Lord  Edward; 
neither  had  I  any  knowledge  of  those  traits  of  villany  in  his  charac- 
ter which  afterward  came  out  on  the  trial  of  Mr.  Bond.  My  preeau- 
liou  arose  simply  from  the  obvious  indiscretion  of  the  demand,  togei^h- 
er  with  my  contemptuous  opinion  of  the  individual  himself;  and  I 
adopted  the  following  mode  of  verifying  my  suspicion.  I  folded  a 
piece  of  blank  paper  after  the  manner  of  a  letter,  which  I  laid  upon 
the  chimney-piece,  and,  as  Reynolds  left  word  with  the  servant  he 


160  MEMOIRS    OF 

The  name  of  this  informer, — a  nanie  in  one  country,  at 
least,  never  to  be  forj^otten, — was  Thomas  Reynolds,  and  the 
information  he  gave  that  led  to  the  arrests  at  Bond's  on  the 

would  eonie  Lack  for  an  answer  before  dinner,  T  waited  for  him  with- 
in, l^etween  three  and  four  he  made  liis  a{>pearanee,  when  I  told 
him,  that  as  he  had  come  liimself  it  was  unnecessary  to  hand  him  my 
answer,  throwing  the  paper  in  the  fire.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  sud- 
den falling  of  Ills  countenance  and  his  rueful  expression  of  disappoint- 
ment at  that  moment.  I  coldly  said  I  knew  nothing  of  the  matter, 
and  hooked  about  as  for  my  hat.  He  could  not  recover  his  composure, 
but  at  once  witlulrew.  My  opportunities  enabled  me  to  know  (for  I 
attended  professionally-  on  his  mother  and  her  daughters)  that  he  was 
given  to  lying,  much  of  a  glutton,  and  both  expensive  und  avaricious; 
qualities  Avhich  I  had  never  seen  to  belong  to  a  man  of  firm  resolu- 
tion, generous  purpose,  integrity,  and  courage.  I  also  learned  tliat 
by  his  neai-  relations  he  was  not  esteemed.  1  take  Reynolds  as  a  case 
to  prove  how  much  it  is  a  violation  of  morals  on  any  account  to  con- 
ceal from  the  knowledge  of  the  world  the  heinous  transgressions  of 
bad  men.  These  are  then  the  wolves  in  sheep's  clothing,  whose  Avick- 
ed  nature  is  not  changed  by  lenity,  but  concealed  in  ambush  until 
llieir  pounce  is  deadly.  Tenderness  for  his  mother  and  her  lionoura- 
ble  relatives,  the  fit/.geralds  of  Oerakline,  caused  a  veil  to  be  drawn 
over  the  crimes  of  his  youth.  Had  he  been  unmasked  in  time,  he 
never  could  have  brought  about  the  ruin  of  the  virtuous  Lord  Edward, 
nor  so  many  other  excellent  men,  nor  of  Ireland,  at  that  period.  No 
pure  character  would  ever  suffer  his  approach  if  a  coroner's  inquest 
had  been  held  on  the  death  of  his  motlier-in-law.  It  Avas  not,  how- 
ever, until  the  trial  of  Mr.  Bond  that  the  circumstances  of  that  horrid 
affair  became  public.  On  the  day  of  trial,  Mv.  Henry  Withrington,  a 
coi-net  in  the  0th  dragoons,  presented  himself  voluntarily,  and  made 
oath,  that  he  believed  Reynolds  not  deserving  of  credit  in  a  court  of 
justice,  and  that  he  had  poisoned  his  (Withriiigton's)  mother.  Rey- 
nolds ha<l  married  a  daughter  of  Mrs.  Withi-ington,  a  lady  of  great 
respectability  and  good  fortune,  and  was  to  receive  at  her  death  £1,500. 
of  his  wife's  portion.  In  some  time  he  persuaded  the  tjood  lady  to 
lend  him  this  sum,  and  take  the  interest  dm-ing  her  life.  Subsequent- 
ly to  the  transaction,  Mrs.  Withrington  became  indisposed  with  a  cold, 
for  which  her  son-in-law  gave  her  a  dose  of  medicine, — he  said,  tartar 
emetic ;  but  she  grew  worse.  The  cornet,  her  j-ounger  son,  at  that 
time  seventeen  years  of  age,  testified  that  she  sent  an  express  the 
same  evening  for  him  and  her  son  lulward,  who  was  major  of  the  regi- 
ment, both  quartered  in  Atlw,  thirty-two  miles  from  Dublin.  That 
he  himself  set  off  inunediately,  and  arrived  in  town  befure  morning; 
but  that  his  mother  was  nailed  up  in  her  cofiin,  which  Reynolds  would 
not  sutler  to  be  opened,  but  wished  to  proceed  with  the  burial;  that 
he  resisted  the  removal  of  the  coffin,  and  remained  leaning  on  it  imtil 
his  brother  Edward  arrived,  who  was  very  indignant  at  the  haste, 
and  had  the  coffin  opened.     There  they  found  their  mother's   body 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  161 

12tli  of  March,*  will  be  most  clearly  set  before  the  reader 
in  the  foUowin;:^  extracts  from  his  evidence  : — 

"  It  was  about  the  25th  February,  1798,  that,  in  travelling 

wrapped  in  a  pitched  sheet.  After  this,  all  intercourse  ceased  between 
the  major  and  Reynolds.  I  have  no  copy  by  me  of  Mr.  Bond's  trial, 
where  the  evidence  of  the  cornet  is  detailed,  but  every  bo<iv  must  see 
it  was  quick  work  for  a  sudden  death  happening  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  and  no  physician  called.  Major  Withrington  also  appeared  on 
the  trial,  whether  voluntarily  or  by  summons  1  do  not  know,  and  he 
corroborated  Henry's  testimony.  To  a  question  why  he  had  conceal- 
ed such  a  fact  so  long,  he  answered,  "  lie  had  the  misfortune  of  hav- 
ing a  sister  married  to  Reynolds,  and  wished  not  to  destroy  her  peace." 
Mrs.  Withrington  was  rich,  and  was  said  to  have  received  a  few  days 
before  her  death  a  large  sum  of  money.  There  was  not  found  after 
her  decease  sufficient  to  bury  her. 

Reynolds  admitted  at  the  trial  every  thing  brought  forward  to  im- 
peach him,  and  the  Orange  jury  convicted  on  his  testimony,  and  the 
government  took  the  part  of  his  character. 

WILLIAM  JAMES  MACNEVIX. 

*  The  reader  probably  requires  not  to  be  reminded  that  the  cap- 
ture at  Bond's  was  the  result  of,  perhaps,  one  of  the  mo?t  diabolical 
strokes  of  treachery  that  ever  fell  to  the  lot  of  a  historian  to  chroni- 
cle. Thomas  Reynolds  !  Oh !  would  that  wc  could  write  his  name  in 
letters  of  blood!  Were  every  disgusting  epithet  of  opprobrium  col- 
lected from  the  refuse  of  our  vocabulary,  and  hurled  in  one  foetid  mass 
at  the  reputation  of  the  Judas,  'twould  be  only  a  speck  to  the  dung- 
hill of  obloquy  under  which  his  character  ought  to  be,  for  all  eternity 
buried.  A  more  deliberate  and  cold-blooded  jjiece  of  treachery  (with 
the  exception,  perhaps,  of  Sheares'  betrayal,)  is  not  upon  record  in 
the  Irish  memory.  By  this  act  alone,  Reynolds  consigned  to  the  gib- 
bet thirteen  men,  wholly  innocent  of  an}'  moral  crime,  not  to  take  into 
account  at  least  a  dozen  others,  whose  opinions  w^re  revealed  by  the 
discovery  at  Bond's  of  their  papers  and  memoranda.  Reynolds  was 
originally  a  silk  mercer  in  Dublin,  but  having  acquired,  by  the  death 
of  some  relatives,  a  landed  property  in  the  County  Kildare,  he  took 
up  his  abode  in  Kilkea  Castle,  near  the  town  of  Mageney.  "  He  so 
completely  wormed  himself"  sa3-8  Plowden,  "  into  the  confidence  of 
Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  and  Bond,  that  in  1797  he  was  appointed  a 
colonel,  then  treasurer  and  representative  of  Kildare,  and  at  last,  de- 
legate for  the  province  of  Leiuster.  A  day  rarely  elapsed  that  he  was 
not  ingratiating  himself  with  Fitzgerald,  partaking  of  his  hospitality, 
eagerly  drinkinjj  down  those  secrets  too  confidingly  imparted,  strength- 
ening them  in  his  recollection  by  careful  note-taking  when  the  momen- 
tary absence  of  his  entertainer  from  the  room  afforded  an  opportuni- 
ty, and  in  the  privacy  of  his  own  closet,  afterwards  stringing  them 
together  into  the  form  of  a  connected  narrative,  in  order,  when  the 
fitting  time  arrived,  to  lay  it  before  Lord  Castlereagh  and  his  col- 
leagues."— Fitzpatrick's  Life  of  Cloncv.rry. 


162  MEMOIRS    OF 

with  Mr.  Cope  to  Castle-Jordan  in  order  to  obtain  pofiscssion 
of  some  lands  to  which  we  were  jointly  entitled,  I  was  inchie- 
ed  by  the  i)ersuasion  of  this  gentleman,  on  whose  friendship 
and  hononr  1  had  the  most  im])hcit  reliance,  to  disclose  to 
him,  in  part,  the  extent  of  the  conspiracy,  I  added,  that  in 
order  to  enable  o-overnment  to  counteract  it  entirely,  I  would 
procure  a  man  wiio  could  get  to  the  bottom  of  it,  and  detect 
the  leaders.  In  consequence  of  this  I  did,  in  the  name  of  a 
third  [)erson,  commnnicate  to  Mr.  Cope  for  government  all  1 
knew  of  the  plans  and  views  of  the  United  Irishmen,  and 
]):irticularly  the  ])ro('eedings  of  the  meeting  at  Bond's  of  the 
IDth  of  February,  1798,  which  I  had  got  from  Lord  I'^dward 
Fitzgerald,  and  the  intended  (Provincial)  meeting  of  the  12th 
of  March,  also  at  Bond's,  which  meeting  was  in  consequence 
apprehended, 

"  In  order  to  procure  more  certain  knowledge  of  the  in- 
tended meeting  of  the  12th  of  March,  I  applied  to  Bond,  at 
whose  house  Dalv  had  said  it  was  to  be  held  ;  and  ])ond 
referred  me  to  John  M'Cann  as  the  man  who  was  to  regulate 
that  part  of  the  business,  and  to  give  any  information  that 
might  be  necessary  about  it.  1  accordingly  applied  to 
M'Cann,  who  said,  that  unless  I  brought  u\)  the  returns  from 
the  county  connnittee  of  Kildare,  I  could  not  be  admitted  to 
the  provincial,  neither  could  he  give  me  any  information  tliere- 
of  till  1  showed  him  said  returns.  On  connnunicating  this  to 
Mr,  Cope,  he  advised  me  to  go  down  to  my  county,  whicli  I 
accordingly  did,  on  the  Satiu-day  week  before  the  arrest  of 
the  nu'cting  at  Bond's,  On  the  Sundr.y  I  went  to  Castleder- 
mott,  where  for  the  first  time  1  met  my  othcers,  and  settled 
returns  of  men  and  arms,  &c.,  after  which  J  called  upon  Daly 
at  Kilcullen,  who  1  knew  was  in  possession  of  the  returns,  and 
who  wrote  a  copy  of  them  and  gave  it  to  me.  On  l)ring!ng 
this  i)aper  up  to  Dublin,  I  showed  it  to  M'Caim,  and  asked 
him  the  time  of  meeting  of  the  provincial  ;  when  he  said  that 
it  was  very  odd  there  was  not  any  increase  in  the  returns  since 
the  last  meeting,  and  that  the  delegates  must  be  in  town  on 
the  Sunday  evening.  M'Cann  then  promised  that  he  would 
breakfast  with  me  on  Sunday,  11th  March,  1798,  at  my 
house.  No,  4  Cumberland-street,  and  tell  me  all  particulars  as 
to  the  time  and  place  of  the  provincial  meeting.  Accord- 
ingly, M'Cann  did  come  on  the  next  morning,   Sunday,  to 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  1G3 

breakfast  ;  but  no  particular  convcrsatiou  then  took  place,  as 
Mrs.  Reynolds  was  present. 

"  After  breakfast,  M'Cann  and  I  walked  to  the  bottom  of 
Churcli-strcet,  when  he  told  me  that,  at  ten  o'clock  on  Mdu- 
dav  mornin<j:,  I  must  be  at  Oliver  Dond's  and  desired  me  to  be 
punctual,  as  particular  l)usiness  woukl  be  done.  Not  wishin;^- 
to  be  at  the  meeting-,  as  1  knew  it  was  to  be  arrested,  1  wrote 
a  note  to  Bond,  which  I  sent  on  Monday  morninii,-,  stating-  that 
Mrs.  Reynokls  was  taken  very  ill  ;  that  1  conid  not  conse- 
quently bring  my  money  at  the  hour  appointed,  and  begged 
him  to  make  an  apology  for  me  to  M'Cann  on  that  account." 

The  above  information  being  laid  by  Mr.  Cope  before  gov- 
ernment, a  warrant  IVom  the  secretary  of  state's  oifice  was 
phiced  in  tlie  hands  of  Mr.  Swan,  a  magistrate  for  the  county 
of  DubHn,  who,  on  the  morning  of  ^Nlondny,  12th  of  ^larch, 
repaired  to  Mr.  Oliver  Bond's  house,  attended  by  tiiirteen  ser- 
geants in  coloured  clothes,  and  by  means  of  the  pass-word, — 
"  Where's  M'Cann  ?  Is  Ivers  from  Carlow  come  ?"  obtained 
ready  admission  to  the  meetingvand  arrested  all  the  persons 
there  assembled.*  Among  tlie  chief  leaders  mentioned  in  the 
warrant,  there  were, — besides  Oliver  l^oud  himself,  who  was 
one  of  the  most  respectable  and  oj)ul('nt  merchants  in  all  Ire- 
land,— Dr.  MacNevin,  Knunet,  and  Sampson, f  both  barristers 
of  eminence,  and  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerakl.  Of  the  four  last 
none  happened  to  be  present  at  the  meeting  ;  but  sei)arate  war- 

*  Among  the  papers  found  at  Bond's,  consisting  chiefly  of  returns 
from  the  otticers  of  the  Union,  there  was  a  list  of  toasts  and  sentiments, 
of  wliieli  the  following  is  a  signitieant  s|)ocimon  : — "  Mother  lOrin  dress- 
ed in  green  ribands  by  a  French  luilliner,  if  she  can't  be  dressed  with- 
out her." 

The  following  are  the  names  and  residences  of  those  arrested.  Oli- 
ver Hond,  lo  Bridge  street,  Dublin,  Peter  ivers,  Carlow,  Lawrence 
Kelly,  Queen's  county,  James  Hose,  AVindyluu'bour,  Dublin,  (ieoi-ge 
Cummins,  Kildare,  Edward  Hudson,  38  Grafton  street,  Dublin.  John 
Lynch.  ;U  ilary's  Abbey,  Dublin,  Lawrence  Griffen,  Carlow,  Thomas 
Reynolds.  Culmuttin,  Kilkenny,  John  McCann,  15^  Church  street, 
Dublin,  Patrick  Devine,  Ballymony,  county  of  Dublin,  Tlujuias  Tray- 
nor,  Pi)olbeg  street,  Dublin,  William  iMiehael  Byrne,  Park  hill  Wick- 
low,  Christopher  Martin,  Dunboyne,  Meath,  i'eter  Bannon.  Poi'tarling- 
ton. 

f  Mr.  Sampson,  however  active,  resolute,  and  efficient  in  the  cause 
of  the  United  Irishmen,  had  tlu^n  no  pai't  in  the  organization  civil  or, 
military.  See  his  correspondence  with  Lord  Moira.  iSlemoir,  2d  ed. 
p.  :iL— Am.  Eu. 


164  MEMOIRS   OF 

rants  being  instantly  issued  against  them,  MacXevin,  Emmet, 
and  Sampson  were  at  no  very  long  intervals  after  apprehend- 
ed,* and  Lord  Edward  alone  contrived  to  elude  pursuit. 

It  has  been  my  good  fortune  to  have  intrusted  to  me,  with 
liberty  to  make  extracts  from  it,  a  short  journal  which  was, 
about  this  time,  begun  by  Lady  Sarah  Napier,"}"  for  the  kind 
purpose  of  preserving,  during  a  severe  illness  of  her  husband, 
such  particulars  of  the  events  then  passing  as  it  would  most 
interest  him,  when  convalescent,  to  know.  The  minute  domes- 
tic details  connected  with  her  noble  relative's  fate,  which  she 
has  here  so  simply,  but  with  so  much  feeling  and  strength  of 
character,  recorded,  are  such  as  could  have  been  in  no  other 
way  accessible,  nor  in  any  other  shape  half  so  interestingly 
conveyed.       .  ^ 

"  Monday,  March  5th. 
"  News  came  from  London  this  week  that  four  or  five  men 
were  taken  up  at  Margate,  trying  to  escape  to  France  with 
some  plot ;  for  that,  having  come  to  Dover,  they  put  their  bag- 
gage on  a  cart,  and  followed  it  themselves  on  foot  towards 
Marirate — offered  immense  sums — seemed  to  know  the  wav — 
that  many  odd  things  caused  suspicion,  and  they  were  appre- 
hended. One  of  tliem  said  he  was  Arthur  O'Connor,  and 
going  abroad  with  the  other  gentleman  :  that  on  the  cart  was 
found  boxes  with  papers  expressive  of  their  being  a  sort  of 
ambassadors,  from  the  U.  I.  M.J  to  the  Directory  at  Paris,  to 
give  assurances  of  the  good  reception  the  French  would  meet 
with  in  Ireland  and  to  press  their  immediate  coming.  The 
gentlemen  denied  the  baggage  was  theirs.  They  were  carried 
to  the  privy  council,  and  put  into  the  Tower. 

This  is  all  the  substance  I  have  gleaned  from  the  little  I 


n  n 


*  Coiinselloi-  Sampson,  however,  having  fled  to  England,  was  seized 
at  Carlisle,  and  there  committed  to  prison  ;  nor  was  it,  if  I  recollect 
right,  till  the  beginning  of  May  that  he  was  brought  back,  in  cusfody. 
to  Dublin.  [For  what  concerns  the  warrant  and  arrest  of  Counsellor 
Sampson,  see  his  own  jMemoirs,  2d  ed.  p.  18.  His  work  it  a^^pears, 
had  not  reached  the  hands  of  Mr.  Moore. — Am.  Ed.] 

f  Aunt  to  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  and  mother  of  the  distinguished 
historian  of  the  Peninsular  AVar,  to  whose  kindness  I  am  indcijted  for 
the  use  of  so  precious  a  document. 

\  United  Irishmen. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  165 

have  heard  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  since  said  that  all 
these  suspicious  circumstances  are  a  fabrication,  and  that  no- 
thing can  be  found  against  O'Connor  of  any  sort.  Yet  Mr. 
Ogilvie  writes  me  word,  it  is  generally  believed,  he  will  be 
hanged  ;  but  many  at  first  said  he  would  get  ofif.  I  will  try 
to  be  more  mistress  of  the  subject  against  you  read  this,  which 
I  have  carefully  kept  from  your  hearing  as  long  as  I  thought 
it  dangerous  to  give  your  thoughts  such  serious  grounds  for 
working  them  on,  which  in  your  weak  state  is  hurtful  and  re- 
tards recovery.  I  have  since  heard  from  Mr.  Henry  that  Ed- 
ward never  was  troubled  about  O'Connor,  and  said  that  he 
had  nothing  odd  with  him  but  1200  lyuineas.  *  *  *  * 
"  He  is  to  be  tried  at  the  Kent  Asssizes. 

March,  17  98. 

"  It  was  fortunate  I  kept  O'Connor's  business  from  you,  as  it 
first  appeared  linked  with  one  much  more  interesting  to  us  all : 
but  /  believe  I  may  say  with  truth,  that  it  was  the  artful  ma- 
nagement of  government  so  to  dispose  the  scenery,  that  the 
most  knowing  ones  were  taken  in  at  first ;  but  that  it  is  cer- 
tain that  an  event  which  took  place  here  is  in  no  way  whatever 
the  conseciuence  of  this  English  business,  but  a  mere  repetition 
of  Russel  and  Xelson  s  business,  and  will  end  the  same  way, 
to  the  disgrace  of  government.     However,  here  is  the  story  : — 

"  (Mr.  Pelham  was  dying,  and  therefore,  poor  man  is  free 
from  this  business.  Lord  Castlereagh  was  sent  for  express  from 
Dundalk,  to  do  Mr.  Pelham's  business.) 

"  Mails  came  from  London,  and  a  council  called,  and  then 
determined  to  take  up  many  U.  I.  M.  ;  for,  early  on  Monday, 
12th,  messengers  were  sent  to  Oliver  Bond's  house,  to  take  up 
all  then  sitting  at  a  committee  ;  when  they  entered  the 
house,  the  table  was  full  of  papers  :  a  sergeant  said,  '  If  you 
don't  all  hold  up  your  hands,  I  will  shoot  you.'  The  papers 
seized  were  of  the  utmost  importance,  and  carried  to  council. 
Counsellor  Emmet,  Oliver  Bond,  Jackson,  the  ironmonger, 
Sweetman  the  brewer,  and  others,  were  taken.  Counsellor 
Sampson  made  his  escape  ;  Dr.  MacXevin  was  taken  in  his 
own  house  ;  and  report  made  a  thousand  stories  of  where  Ed- 
ward was.  Some  said  at  the  committee,  others  at  Dr.  Mac- 
Nevin^s ;  that  the  sheriff  seeing  him,  said  to  the  messengers, 
'  Is  not  Lord  Edward  in  your  warrant  V     '  Xo  ;'  upon  which 


166  MEMOIRS    OF 

Edward  walked  in  the  streets  ;  and  then  heard  a  separate  war- 
rant was  out  for  him,  on  which  he  disappeared,  and  has  never 
been  heard  of  since, 

"  Tiie  separate  warrant  went  by  a  messenger,  attended  by 
Sheriff  Carlton,  and  a  party  of  soldiers,  commanded  by  a  Ma- 
jor O'Kelly,  into  Leinster-house.  The  servants  ran  up  to 
Lady  Edward,  who  was  ill  with  the  gathering  in  her  breast, 
and  told  her  ;  she  said  directly,  '  There  is  no  help,  send  them 
up  :'  they  asked  very  civilly  for  her  papers  and  Edward's,  and 
she  gave  all.  Her  apparent  distress  moved  Major  O'Kelly  to 
tears ;  and  their  whole  conduct  was  proper.  They  left  her, 
and  soon  returned  (Major  Boyle  having  been  with  two  dra- 
goons to  Frescati,  and  taken  such  papers  as  were  in  their  sit- 
ting-room, and  not  found  Edward)  to  search  Leinster-house 
for  him,  and  came  up  with  great  good  nature  to  say,  '  Madam, 
we  wish  to  tell  you  our  search  is  in  vain.  Lord  Edward  has 
escaped.'  Dr.  Lindsay  returning  from  hence  went  to  Leinster- 
house  to  her,  and  there  found  her  in  the  greatest  agitation,  the 
humour  quite  gone  back,  and  he  was  a  good  deal  alarmed  for 
her  ;  but,  by  care,  she  is,  thank  God,  recovered. 

"  Mrs.  Pakenham  wrote  that  night  to  my  sister  a  letter,  I 
hope  you  will  see,  for  it  was  trying  to  make  the  matter  as  light 
as  she  could  to  my  poor  sister,   yet  forced  to  say  what,  of 
course,  she  heard  from  Mr.  P.  and  Lord  Castlereagh. 

"Tuesday,  13  th. 
"  ]My  sister  brought  me  the  letter  in  the  greatest  despair.  I 
was  shocked  at  the  event,  but  by  no  means  alarmed  at  the 
description,  and  told  her  I  was  sure  Edward  ran  off  to  avoid 
a  prison  only,  and  that  it  would  all  prove  a  second  edition  of 
Nelson's,  <fec.  I  said  this,  yet  my  mind  sunk  within  me  at  the 
idea  of  its  being  from  O'Connor's  business. 

"  AVednesda}',  14th. 
"  My  sister  went  off  early  to  town  with  Emmy  to  break- 
fast at  Mrs.  P.'s,  appointing  C.  Fitzgerald  to  meet  her,  and 
wishing  to  hear  from  him  what  he  had  done  relative  to  my 
sister  and  the  duke  ;  but  instead  of  Charles  she  found  Lord 
Castlereagh,  who  told  her,  •  Tliough  the  two  brothers  differ, 
yet  nature  is  strong,  and  Lord  Charles  was  so  overcome  on 
Monday,  hearing  this  event,  that  he  set  off  early  on  Tuesday 
for  the  country,  to  get  out  of  the  way.' 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  167 

"  Louisa  then  asked  questious.  Lord  C.  said,  '  I  fear  I 
cauuot  answer  your  questions,  for  you  know  I  am  bound  to 
secrecy,;  but  pray  don't  believe  any  reports  you  liear,  for, 
upon  my  word,  nothing  has  y&t  transpired.  You  may  rely  on 
the  earnest  wishes  of  government  to  do  all  they  can  for  Lord 
Edward,  who  is  so  much  loved,  and  as  he  can't  be  found,  no 
harm  can  happen  to  him.  I  pity  Lady  Edward  most  exceed- 
ingly, and  will  do  all  in  my  power  to  send  her  back  her  private 
letters.'  Mr.  P.  spoke  as  usual,  of  Edward,  fine  fiinnmery, 
and  said  he  only  hoped  in  God  he  should  not  meet  him,  as  it 
would  be  a  sad  struggle  between  his  duty  and  frie.ndship. 
Louisa  took  all  this  as  it  was  intended  she  should  ;  but  when 
she  was  out  of  the  room,  Emily  heard  Sir  G.  S.  express  his 
hojies  that  Lord  Edward  would  he  caught,  and  she  did  not  hear 
or  set  any  thing  like  a  contradiction  to  this  wish  from  any  of 
the  company. 

"  From  thence  Louisa  went  to  Leinster-house,  where  poor 
little  Pamela's  fair,  meek,  and  pitiable  account  of  it  all  moved 
her  to  the  greatest  degree,  and  gained  my  sister's  good  opinion 
of  her  sense  and  good  conduct.  My  sister  charged  her  not 
to  name  his  name, — not  to  give  a  soul  a  hint  of  where  he  was, 
if  she  knew  it,  and  to  stay  at  Leinster-house,  seeing  everybody 
that  called,  and  keep  strict  silence, — to  which  Pamela  agreed. 
Louisa  went  back  to  the  set,  and  told  them  how  meek  and 
gentle  Pamela  was  ;  that  she  did  not  suppose  any  of  the  gov- 
ernment people  would  insult  her,  but  underlings  might  ;  that 
she  would,  as  soon  as  her  breast  admitted  of  it,  see  everybody 
who  was  so  good  as  to  call  on  her,  to  show  she  was  not  plot- 
ting mischief.  They  gave  great  praise  to  her  sense  and  good 
conduct  (though  I  hear,  before  this,  Mr.  P.  had  said  her  sick- 
ness was  a  sham),  and  my  sister  came  home  with  Dr.  Lindsay 
quite  satisfied  that,  in  this  miserable  business.  Lady  Edward 
was  secure  of  his  innocence  and  safety,  and  government  all 
good-nature  ;  but  still  in  such  horrors  about  either  his  having 
invited  the  French,  or  his  being  punished  for  it,  that  she  can- 
not bring  herself  to  name  tlie  subject  without  agony. 

"  By  this  time  I  had  heard  from  others,  that  all  Dublin  was 
in  consternation  on  ^Monday  morning  ;  that  upon  the  papers 
being  carried  to  council,  the  chancellor  was  sent  for  at  the 
courts  to  attend  it  :  that  he  dashed  out  in  a  hurrv,  and  found 
a  mob  at  the  door,  who  abused  him,  and  he  returned  the  abuse 


168  MEMOIRS    GF 

by  cursing  and  swearing  like  a  madman.  He  met  Lord  West- 
meath,  and  they  went  into  a  shop  and  came  out  with  pistols, 
and  the  chancellor  thus  went  on  foot  to  council. 

"  Thursday,  loth. 

"  I  heard  from  Mr.  Berwick  that  government  had  ordered 
no  mention  of  this  transaction  should  appear  in  any  paper. 
He  told  me  of  the  strange  absurd  reports  of  their  having  be- 
haved so  ill  in  the  searches,  &c.  ;  and  I  told  him  Lady  Ed- 
ward had  written  to  thank  Major  O'Kelly  for  his  humane 
conduct. 

"  My  sister  had  promised  to  go  again,  but  did  not.  I  heard 
daily  from  Lady  Edward,  and  found  she  had  recovered  her 
spirits  in  so  sudden  a  manner,  that  everybody  is  convinced  she 
knows  where  he  is,  and  that  he  is  safe  and  innocent.  I  sent 
her  20/.  in  case  she  wanted  ready  money,  but  she  returned  it, 
and  sent  me  word  she  had  plenty,  for  that  they  had  some  by 
them,  and  that  she  was  going  to  take  a  house  to  get  out  of 
Leiuster-house,  which  was  grown  detestable  to  her,  and  to 
have  a  quiet  home  of  her  own  to  lie-in  in.  She  bade  me  tell 
my  sister  Leinster  to  be  quite,  quite  easy.  To  write  would  be 
folly  in  her,  and  indeed  in  us,  for  all  letters  are  opened  now  ; 
so  I  only  wrote  to  Mrs,  Johnson,  and  made  a  child  direct  it, 
desiring  h€.r  to  send  for  Mr.  Ogilvie,  and  show  it  him.  We 
know  nothing  yet  of  how  my  poor  sister  will  take  it — I  fear 
very  badly.  Government  intended  a  proclamation  to  take 
Edward,  but  thought  better  of  it. 

"  I  was  surprised  by  a  visit  from  Captain  M  *  *.  He 
began  a])out  Edward  :  I  said  I  was  sure  he  was  innocent, 
though  he  made  no  secret  of  his  opinions,  but  that  nobody 
dreaded  a  revolution  more,  from  the  goodness  of  his  heart, 
and  that  he  only  ran  off,  I  was  sm'e,  from  the  dread  of  prison. 
'  But,'  said  M.,  '  surely  he  knew  the  consequence  of  sitting  at 
a  committee  V  'I  believe  he  never  was  there.'  '  Oh  !  I  beg 
your  pardon,'  said  M.,  '  he  was  seen  there,  as  I  understand.' 
'  I  am  sure,'  said  I,  *  you  think  your  authority  good,  very 
naturally,  but  I  douU  every  authority.'  '  But  surely,'  said  he, 
*  they  would  not  dare  to  take  him  up  without  sufficient  grounds  ?' 
'  If  I  had  not  seen  it  done  twice  here,  I  should  think  as  you 
do  ;  but  I  know  all  their  ways  too  well,  and  you  will  see  that 
I  am  right.'     We  then  talked  of  poor  Doyle,  of  M  *  *  's 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  169 

own  situation,  who  is  aid-de-camp  to  Lord  Clanricarde,  with 
whom  he  was  in  Corsica,  and  whom  he  likes  of  all  things. 
He  spoke  with  the  greatest  regard  of  you,  came  down  on  pur- 
pose to  inquire  about  you,  and  says  he  will  come  whenever 
you  are  able  to  see  him.  He  told  me  of  a  servant  of  Mr. 
Lee's  being  killed  by  a  soldier's  bayonet  the  day  before  in  the 
streets,  because  some  men,  among  whom  was  this  servant, 
were  seducing  soldiers  ;  that  Lord  Tyrawly  came  among  them, 
and  tried  to  send  them  away.  This  servant  was  impertinent 
to  him  :  he  drew  his  pistols,  and  a  soldier  struck  the  man, 
who  died  on  the  spot. 

"Friday,  16th, 

"  Captain  M  *  *  seemed  to  think  ill  of  the  U.  I.  men, 
and  laughed  at  the  farce  of  everybody  going  armed  with  pis- 
tols,— saying  ^  he,  never  had  been  attacked, — out  at  all  hours 
of  the  night.' 

"  Saturday,  17th. 

''  St.  Patrick's  Day.     All  quid. 

"  The  same  day  came  the  surveyor  that  lived  with  Plaw, 
merely  to  acknowledge  his  obligations  to  you  ;  he  has  been  in 
the  Xorth  with  Lord  Downshire,  and,  being  in  Dublin  could 
not  resist  his  wish  to  see  you.  Mr.  Swinburne  came,  as  you 
know,  merely  to  inquire  after  you.  I  suspect  he  avoided  see- 
ing me  on  account  of  Edward's  business. 

"  Saturday,  24:th. 

"  Captain  Armstrong  came  for  the  third  time,  and  you  saw 
him.  From  him  I  heard  that  the  prisoners  would  come  off 
well  ;  that  there  was  no  committee,  only  some  of  them  as- 
sembled to  consider  what  was  to  be  done  about  the  'prtss. 
That  the  report  of  a  dreadful  majp,  found  in  Lady  Edward's 
care,  was  one  of  Dublin,  with  notes  written  by  a  clever  gun- 
maker,*  who  had  marked  the  weak  parts,  and  who  sent  it  to 
Lord  Edward.  That  no  sooner  had  this  man  heard  of  the 
noise  it  made,  than  he  went  to  government  and  said  it  was 

"^  "Watt}'  Cox"  the  proprietor  of  the  Union  Star,  a  paper  which 
professed  to  advocate  the  principles  of  the  United  Irishmen,  1>ut  was 
repeatedly  denounced  by  the  leaders  on  account  of  its  sanguinary 
tendencies. 


I  TO  MEMOIRS   OF 

his,  which  he  had  shov.-n  to  Lord  Edward,  They  asked  him 
for  what  purpose  he  had  drawn  it?  'For  my  own  amuse- 
ment/ said  he.  So  tliat,  by  Armstrong's  account,  nothing 
would  come  of  all  this  business,  and  by  Lady  Edward's  and 
others,  I  was  in  hopes  it  would  prove  so.  Reports  say  Ed- 
ward was  seen  in  a  postchaise  with  his  brother  Charles  at 
Is  ewry  ;  but  it  is  false,  I  fancy  :  others  that  he  is  at  Leinster- 
house,  and  at  Carton, — all  false,  I  believe. 

*'  When  Mrs.  P.  came  on  Tuesday,  Mr.  Conolly  was  setting 
off.  Louisa  said  she  would  go  and  fetch  Lady  Edward  to 
Castletown,  and  he  forbade  it.  From  Duudaik  he  wrote, 
'  There  will  not  be  the  same  objections  in  June  to  her  coming 
to  Castletown,'  We  cannot  guess  what  that  means.  All 
Saturday  we  were  in  expectation  of  the  Naas  prisoners'  re- 
turn, and  anxious  to  know  their  fate. 

"  Sunday,  2oth. 
"  This  morning,  being  in  your  room,  my  sister  "^  came,  and 
I  saw  she  looked  disturbed. 

^  ^;  ^  H«  ^  5js 

I  took  no  notice  of  her  looks,  but  she  gave  me  a  letter  from 
Mr,  Ogilvie,  saying,  my  poor  sister  f  was  supported  by  her 
confidence  in  Edward  not  deserving  any  thing  by  word  or 
deed,  but  that  Sophia  and  Lucy  were  terribly  affected.  He 
also  said  that  the  poor  little  dutchess  J  was  given  over  by  all 
who  came  from  Bristol,  but  that  he,  the  duke,  did  not  see  it. 
This  letter  accounted  to  me  for  her  low  looks.  As  she  was 
going,  she  beckoned  me  out,  and  said  that  she  must  tell  me  a 
secret,  though  she  had  reasons  not  to  reveal  it  ;  but  since  I 
had  determined  to  sit  up  this  night,  it  was  necessary  to  tell 
me  not  to  be  alarmed,  if,  early  in  the  morning,  I  should  hear 
a  bustle,  for  that  an  officer,  she  thinks  a  Mr.  Longfield,  came 
from  Xaas,  and  asking  for  Mr.  Conolly,  seemed  disappointed. 
lie  then  asked  to  speak  to  Colonel  ]Sapier,  and  hearing  that 
he  was  ill,  asked  if  any  gentleman  vv'as  in  the  house,  and  at 
list  begged  to  speak  to  Louisa  herself,  who  went  down  to 
him.     He  told  her  that  an  order  was  given  in  General  Wil- 

*  Lady  Louisa  Conolly. 

+  The  dutehess-dowager.  Lord  Edward's  mother. 

:}:  The  Dutchess  of  Leinster, 


LORD    EDTVARD    FITZGERALD.  171 

son's  district,  including  this  place,  to  search  for  arms,  and  dis- 
arm everybody.  She  asked  if  officers  were  included  ;  he  suid 
he  believed  not  ultimately,  but  that  no  exclusion  was  mmle  in 
the  order  which  he  siiowed  her,  signed  by  General  Hewitt, 
and  it  is  very  strict.  He  asked  how  many  arms  she  had  : 
she  guessed  twenty.  He  said,  *  Have  you  twenty  servants  to 
use  them?'  'Yes.'  Then  we  won't  trouble  you.  For  it  was 
the  fear  of  alarming  you  with  all  the  military  that  will  be 
about  to-morrow  early  that  brought  me,  and  we  won't  come 
here,  as  it  is  only  meant  for  the  disaffected,  and  others  must 
go  through  the  ceremony,'  Louisa  said,  '  Pray,  sir,  don't  let 
your  civihty  interfere  with  your  duty — search  the  house,  if 
you  choose  it.'  'That  must  depend  on  the  magistrates,'  said 
he,  '  for  Sir  Ralph  Abercrombie's  new  order  hampers  us  sadly 
now.  I  wish  I  knew  who  were  disaffected — can  you  tell  me  ? ' 
*  Xo,'  said  Louisa  ;  '  I  can  tell  you  wiio  are  7iot,  but  I  don't 
know  who  ore  ;  but  may  I  beg  to  know  if  you  must  go  to 
Colonel  N.,  for  he  is  so  ill,  it  may  alarm  him  to  hear  a  bustle  ? ' 
'  Yes,  I  suppose  we  must,  but  of  course  we  shall  give  a  receipt 
for  the  arms,  and  he  will  know  where  to  find  them." 

"  Thus  did  my  dear  sister  so  alter  her  nature,  that  she  sub- 
mitted to  be  disarmed,  and  leave  her  house  a  prey  to  vaga- 
bonds— and  she  was  not  glad  the  prisoners  were  released.* 
What  perversion  in  the  noblest  nature  may  be  compassed  by 
cunning,  by  nerves,  and  by  habits  of  hearing  terror  rung  in 
her  ears  for  years  !  I  had  neither  time  nor  thoughts  to 
answer,  argue,  or  try  to  convince  her.  I  thanked  her  for  the 
notice,  and  rejoiced  to  be  prepared; — and  on  reflection,  I  now 
determined  to  refuse  to  allow  the  search,  or  to  give  up  the 
arms.  And  I  am  loell  awake  in  the  expectation  of  these 
offenders,  who  w^ant  to  leave  us  to  defenders.  N.  B.  The  Naas 
prisoners  all  returned  to  Celbridge  at  six  o'clock. 

"  In  the  interim  I  return  to  Mr.  Henry's  conversation  in 
the  morning  before  my  sister  came.  He  told  me  that  O'Con- 
nor would  be  tried  soon,  and  he  understood  nothinij:  would  be 
done  to  him,  though  Mr.  Oo:ilvie  wrote  me  word  he  would  be 
hanged.     Henry  also  says,  cntre  nous,  there  was  a  committee, 

*  Tliis  alludes  to  Lady  Louisa  liaving,  the  day  before,  checked  some 
of  her  sister's  children  who  were  expressing  their  \o\  at  the  libex'- 
ation  of  the  prisoners  tried  at  Xaas. 


1T2  MEMOIRS    OF 

and  that  goyernment  say  they  knew  of  it  a  month  ago  ;  that 
the  delegates  of  each  province  send  Iheir  delegates  to  Dublin, 
and  that  Edward  was  to  order  for  Leinster  how  they  were  to 
proceed — as  is  said.  That  he  staid  in  Dublin  some  days,  and 
foolishly  was  visited  by  many,  and  at  last  removed  for  fear  of 
being  found  out.  That  government  made  a  furious  noise  for 
two  days,  but  dropped  it  in  a  moment,  and  that  he  believes 
they  wish  him  to  escape  ;  but  that  he  (Henry)  fears  Edward 
will  be  tempted  to  draw  the  sword  and  throw  away  the  scab- 
bard, for  that  they  (I  don't  know  who  Henry  includes  in  they) 
all  sav  that  if  Edward  is  taken  or  touched,  thev  ivoiiH  hear  it. 

"  Now  what  am  I  to  think  of  all  this  ?  How  far  can  I 
rely  on  Henry's  opinion  ?  who  does  he  take  it  from  ?  He 
also  told  us  Lord  Ormond  and  Sparrow  made  themselves  con- 
stables, searching  for  Edward  with  two  dragoons,  the  latter 
vowing  he  would  bring  him  dead  or  alive  ;  but  all  this  vapour- 
ing ceased  soon.  Henry  also  told  me  goxevmaQwi  ahuscd  Sir 
Ralph  Abercrombie,  who  was  going  to  resign  ;  l^ut  that,  as  the 
king  and  Dundas  were  fond  of  him,  it  was  expected  to  make 
a  dust  first. 

"  You  asked  me  to-dav  if  something  was  not  the  matter 
with  me.  I  tliink  with  such  a  load  of  interesting  things  on 
my  mind,  I  fight  a  good  battle  with  myself,  and  keep  very 
equal  in  my  attendance  and  manner  to  you.  What  will  not 
affection  do,  when  what  we  adore  may  suffer  from  the  least 
inadvertence  ?  I  made  a  little  trial  of  your  wish  about  the 
arms,  and  your  answer  decided  me,  for  I  am  your  representa- 
tive in  this  iostance. 

"  Among  these  things,  I  forgot  to  mention  a  trifling  thing, 
comparatively  speaking,  but  which  agitated  me  a  good  deal. 
On  Sunday,  4th,  Farrell  rode  Sam  to  town  for  Lindsay,  and 
going  into  Coyle's  a  soldier  of  the  Fermanagh  pushed  the 
horse  out  of  his  way.  Farrell  was  endeavouring  to  do  the 
same,  when  another  soldier  of  the  same  regiment  stuck  his 
bayonet  in  the  horse's  flank,  and  wounded  him.  Farrell  call- 
ed out  ;  but  instantly  giving  the  horse  to  Coyle's  people  he 
ran  to  examine  the  man,  and  marked  him  in  his  memory,  then 
returned,  attended  to  the  horse,  and  called  everybody  to  wit 
ness  it.  An  officer  of  Frazer's  saw  it  all  and  said  he  would 
write  to  you  ;  but  hearing  you  were  ill,  told  Farrell  to  tell 
you,  when  well,  that  he  would  vouch  for  his  good  conduct. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  1*13 

Farrell,  not  content,  went  to  look  for  Mr.  P.  to  make  his  com- 
plaint ;  bnt  not  finding  hira,  would  not  risk  being  lute,  and 
came  home  gently  with  Sam,  who  I  hear  is  quite  well,  it  being 
only  a  flesh  wound.  All  my  children  and  servants  were  up 
about  this,  and  I  ready  to  cry  for  vexation  ;  but  I  foresaw 
that  a  fuss  about  it  might  bring  on  unpleasant  stories,  such 
as  your  horse  being  stabbed,  and  then  the  soldier's  revenge  at 
Farrell,  and  in  short  many  things  to  annoy  you  in  your  con- 
valescence ;  so  I  forbade  all  talk,  and  took  it  all  on  me.  I 
sent  to  Mr.  Kempland,  and  had  the  whole  told  hi?n,  desiring 
the  soldier  might  be  properly  punished  for  being  a  brute  to  a 
poor  horse, — and  not  because  it  was  a  colonel's  horse,  but  a 
horse.  In  some  days  after  Mr,  Kempland  came  to  fetch  Far- 
rell to  be  a  witness  against  the  man,  at  a  court-martial,  after 
having  kept  him  in  the  black-hole  a  week.  I  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  obtain  his  pardon,  upon  condition  he  would  promise 
never  to  hurt  any  horse  again,  and  to  have  hira  told  that  I 
forgave  him,  in  hopes  it  would  make  him  more  sorry  for  his 
fault  than  if  I  got  him  punished.  Mr.  K.  seemed  much  pleas- 
ed with  my  commission,  and  I  hope  it  will  meet  with  your 
approbation,  as  I  did  it  exactly  as  I  thought  yo2i  ivoidd  do. 
Since  that  I  send  my  horses  to  Mrs.  P.  or  Moira-house, 

"  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  Captain  Hamilton  brought  me  a 
letter  from  General  X,,  by  which  I  see  poor  Mrs,  Oswald  is 
dead,  and  your  poor  aunt  in  the  greatest  affliction. 

"  Thursday,  29th  March. 
"  I  now  return  to  the  'a7-7ns,  which  you  know  the  sequel  of.*^ 
It  cost  me  very  uneasy  nights,  I  own,  expecting  a  domiciliary 
visit  daily.  We  have  heard  from  my  sister  Leinster,  and 
she  shows  so  much  sense,  firmness,  and  resignation  to  what- 
ever mav  be  the  event,  that  I  am  charmed  with  her  elevated 
and  spirited  character,  and  trust  it  will  save  her  from  many 
hours  of  misery  which  poor  Louisa,  passes  so  unnecessarily  for 
want  of  using  her  reason.  As  I  mean  to  show  you  this  to- 
morrow,  I  shall  stop." 

The  reader  has  seen  from  this  Journal,  that,  after  the  arrests 

*  Her  ladyship  refused  to  deliver  up  the  arms,  and  there  was  no 
further  step  taken  about  them. 


lU 


MEMOIRS    OF 


of  the  1 2tli  of  March,  neither  Lord  Edward's  brother  or  aunts 
were  at  all  aware  of  what  had  become  of  him.  Whether  it 
had  been  his  intention  to  attend  tlie  meeting  at  Bond's  does 
not  appear  from  the  evidence,  but  that  he  was  one  of  those 
whom  the  officers  expected  to  find  there  was  manifest.  On  the 
issuing  of  the  separate  warrant  against  him,  they  lost  no  time, 
as  we  see,  in  putting  it  into  execution,  and  were  actually  in 
Leinster-house,  making  their  search,  when,  having  hastened 
home,  hearing  of  the  arrests,  he  was  on  the  point  of  entering 
it.  His  faithful  Tony,  however,  being  on  the  look-out  for  him, 
he  received  notice  of  what  was  going  on  in  time  to  escape.  It 
is  difficult,  however  fruitless  such  a  feeling  must  be,  not  to  min- 
gle a  little  regret  with  the  reflection  that  had  he  happened,  on 
this  day,  to  have  been  one  of  the  persons  arrested  at  Bond's, 
not  onlv  might  his  own  life,  from  the  turn  affairs  afterward 
took,  have  been  spared,  but  much  of  the  unavailing  bloodshed 
that  was  now  to  follow  have  been  prevented. 

Another  striking  part  of  the  fatality  which  seems  to  have 
marked  his  every  step,  was,  that  he  himself  should  have  been 
the  chief  cause  of  the  informer  Reynolds's  promotion  to  those 
posts  of  honour  and  trust  in  the  confederacy  which  gave  him 
ultimately  so  much  the  power  of  betraying  it.  His  lordship 
had,  it  appears,  taken  a  kind  and  active  part  in  some  negotia- 
tion relative  to  a  lease  between  Reynolds  and  the  Duke  of 
Leinster,  and  being  deceived,  in  the  course  of  this  transaction, 
by  an  appearance  of  honesty  and  respectability  in  the  man, 
was  induced,  in  the  unsuspiciousness  of  his  own  nature,  to 
place  entire  confidence  in  him.  To  what  an  extent  he  carried 
this  reliance,  the  following  extracts  from  Reynolds's  deposi- 
tions will  show  : — 

"In  the  month  of  November,  119T,  Lord  Edward  Fitz- 
gerald called  upon  me,  at  my  house  in  Park-street,  and  said 
that  he  came  to  request  me  to  become  a  colonel  for  the  barony 
of  Kilkea  and  Moon,  in  which  barony  I  had  then  purchased  a 
place.  I  at  first  hesitated,  but  he  used  many  arguments,  and 
I  at  length  agreed  to  accept  the  command. 

"  Lord  Edward  then  said,  '  That  there  was  an  honest  man 
in  the  county  of  Kildare,  Matthew  Kennaa,  who  would  call 
and  speak  to  me  about  my  election  to  be  colonel.'  About  the 
latter  end  of  January,  1798,  Matthew  Kennaa  came  to  me, 
and  asked  whether  I  would  stand  my  election  for  colonel,  on 


LORD    ED-^VARD    FITZGERALD.  175 

which  I  told  liim  that  I  would,  as  Lord  Edward  had  been 
speaking  to  me  about  it.  Kennaa  then  said  that  he  knew  his 
lordship  had  been  speaking  to  me  on  the  subject,  and  adding, 
that  it  was  intended  I  should  hold  a  civil  as  well  as  military 
employment,  asked  me  which  I  should  prefer,  being  a  treasurer 
or  a  secretary.  To  this  I  answered,  that  I  would  rather  be  a 
treasurer. 

"  About  the  24th  of  February  I  went  down  to  the  Black 
Rock  with  Curamings  and  M'Cann  of  Grafton-street  to  dine 
with  Lord  Edward,  where  I  found  Huirh  Wilson.  It  was 
after  dinner  on  that  day,  that  Lord  Edward  gave  me  the  reso- 
lutions and  returns  of  the  National  Committee,*  with  copies 
of  which  I  furnished  ]Mr.  Cope  for  the  government. 

"  I  expressed  some  doubts  to  Lord  Edward,  whether  the 
United  men  could  stand  in  battle  before  the  king's  troops,  but 
he  replied  to  me,  '  That  would  not  be  altogether  necessary,  as 
assistance  from  France  was  expected  ;  that  then  some  of  the 

*  These  papers  were  all  in  Lord  Edward's  hand-writing.  Tlie  re- 
turns will  give  some  notion  of  the  forcj  which  he  might  have  been 
able  to  rally  round  him  had  he  lived. 

''National  Committee,  2&th  Feb.  1798. 

"  Ulster  and  Munster  made  no  new  returns  this  time,  but  stato 
their  former  returns  asrain  of  last  Monday. 

O  x/ 


Armed  Men. 

Finances  in  hand, 

Ulster 

-       110,990 

£436     2     4 

Munster 

-       100,634 

147   17     2 

Kildare 

10,863 

110  17     7 

Wicklow 

12,895 

93     6     4 

Dublin 

3.010 

87     2     6 

Dublin  City 

2,177 

321   17   11 

Queen's  County 

11,089 

91     2     1 

King's  County 

3,600 

21   11     3 

Carlo  w 

9,414 

49     2  10 

Kilkenny 

624 

10     2     3 

Meath 

1,400 

171     2     1 

279,896  £1,485     4     9" 

Among  the  resolutions  was  the  following,  alluding  to  some  concili- 
atory motion  which  was  then  about  to  be  brought  forward  by  Lord 
Moira: — 

"  Kesolved,  that  we  will  pay  no  attention  whatever  to  any  attempts 
that  may  be  made  by  either  House  of  Parliament,  to  divert  the  pub- 
lic mind  from  the  grand  object  which  we  have  in  view,  as  nothing 
short  of  the  complete  emaucipatiou  of  our  country  will  satisfy  us." 


1T6  MEMOIRS    OF 

United  men  would  certainly  join  in  the  French  lines,  and  of 
course  would  soon  become  disciplined  ;  but  as  to  the  multitude, 
all  they  would  have  to  do  would  be  to  harass  the  escorts  of 
ammunition,  cut  oil"  detachments  and  foraj^in;^  parties,  and,  in 
line,  make  the  kin,<i,'s  troops  feel  themselves  in  every  respect  in 
an  enemy's  country,  while  tlie  actual  battles  would  be  left  to 
the  foreign  troops.' '' 

The  very  day  before  the  arrest  of  the  meeting  at  Bond's  a 
conversation  which  we  find  thus  detailed  l)y  tlie  informer  him- 
self, took  i)lace  between  him  and  his  noble  patron  : — "  About 
four  o'clock,  on  Sunday  the  lltii  of  March,  I  called  at  Leins- 
ter  House,  upon  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald.  I  had  a  printed 
jiapcr  in  my  hand,  which  I  had  picked  uj)  somewliere,  purport- 
ing to  ))e  directions  or  orders  signed  l)y  Counsellor  Saurin  to 
the  Lawyers'  Corjjs.  These  recjuired  tliem,  in  case  of  riot  or 
alarm,  to  repair  to  Smithheld,  and  such  as  had  not  ball-cart- 
ridge were  to  get  them  at  his  house,  and  such  as  were  going 
out  of  town  and  did  not  think  their  arms  safe,  were  to  depo- 
site  them  with  him  ;  and  there  was  a  little  paper  inside,  which 
mentioned  tiuit  their  orders  were  to  be  kept  secret.  Lord  Ed- 
ward Fitzgerald,  upon  wading  this  })aper,  seemed  greatly  agi- 
tated :  he  said  he  thought  government  intended  to  arrest  him, 
and  he  wished  lie  could  get  to  France,  to  hasten  the  invasion, 
which  he  could  do  by  his  intimacy  with  Talleyrand  Ferigord,  one 
of  the  French  ministers.  He  said  he  would  not  approve  of  a 
general  invasion  at  first,  but  that  the  French  had  some  very 
tine  fast-sailing  frigates,  and  that  he  would  put  on  board  them 
as  many  English  and  Irish  officers  as  he  could  procure  to  come 
over  from  France,  and  as  many  men  as  were  capable  of  drilling, 
and  stores  and  annnunition  of  dilferent  kinds,  and  run  them 
into  some  port  in  this  country  ;  he  said  he  thought  Wexford 
might  do  :  that  it  would  be  unsus[)ected,  and  if  they  succeed- 
ed they  could  establish  a  rallying  point,  until  other  help 
should  come. 

"  Lord  Edward,  after  this  conversation,  walked  up  and 
down  the  room  in  a  very  agitated  manner  :  *  No,'  said  he,  *  it 
is  impossible,  government  cannot  be  informed  of  it  ;  they 
never  have  been  aljle  to  know  where  the  provincial  meet.' 
Shortly  after  this,  the  servant  came  and  asked  was  he  ready 
for  dinner.  I  went  away  ; — he  wanted  me  to  stay  to  dinner, 
but  I  would  not." 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  1*77 

In  makini^  his  terms  vvitli  the  jrovermiient,  it  was  one  of 
the  conditions  insisted  upon  hy  Reynolds,  that  the  channel 
throngli  which  tiie  information  came  should  remain  for  some 
time  a  secret  ; — a  stipulation  in  which  his  employers  were  no 
less  interested  than  himself,  as  by  wearing  still  the  mask  of  a 
friend,  he  could  retain  still  the  confidence  of  those  he  was  be- 
traying, and  whatever  victims  his  first  aim  had  missed  might, 
from  the  same  ami)ush,  be  made  sure  of  afterward.  In  jjur- 
suance  of  this  policy,  we  find  him,  as  he  himself  admits,  pay- 
ing a  friendly  visit  to  JNIrs.  Bond,  two  or  tiiree  days  after  he 
had  marked  her  husband  for  death  ;  and  even  to  Lord  Ed- 
ward, whose  place  of  concealment  at  this  moment  was  kept 
secret,  as  we  have  seen,  from  his  own  family,  this  man,  under 
the  trust  reposed  in  him,  found  ready  admittance  ;  and,  again 
abusing  the  frank  confidence  he  had  inspired,  was  enabled  to 
return  to  his  employers  armed  with  fresh  proofs,  which,  though 
unavailing,  as  it  turned  out,  against  the  noble  Edward  him- 
self, were  reserved  for  the  posthumous  revenge  of  disinheriting 
his  offspring.  The  following  is  Reynolds's  own  account  of  what 
passed  on  this  occasion  ;  and  it  would  be  a  task  worthy  of  a 
great  painter,  to  consign  to  canvass  his  conception  of  what  an 
interview  between  two  such  persons,  under  such  circumstances, 
must  have  been  ; — doing  justice  at  once  to  the  ardour,  the 
gallant  bearing,  the  elevation  above  all  guile  and  suspicion, 
that  characterized  one  of  the  parties,  and  the  cool  purpose  of 
deceit,  yet  consciousness  of  degradation,  which,  to  any  eye 
perhaps  but  his  victim's,  must  have  been  visible  through  the 
plausibility  of  the  other  : — 

"  I  saw  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  the  Wednesday  night 
after,  in  Aungier-street,  at  Dr.  Kennedy's  having  been  brought 
to  his  place  of  concealment  there.  I  had  little  conversation 
with  him  at  that  time,  but  he  desired  me  to  come  to  him  the 
following  evening,  at  the  same  place.  I  did  so,  and  he  brought 
me  u})  stairs,  and  gave  me  a  paper,  which  he  desired  me  to 
deliver  as  an  address  from  him  to  the  county,  desiring  them 
not  to  mind  what  had  passed,  as  it  signified  nothing  ;  but  to 
fill  up  the  vacancies  occasioned  by  the  arrest  at  Bond's  as  soon 
as  possible,  as  the  time  was  at  hand  when  they  should  be  call- 
ed into  action,  and  they  might  rely  on  his  being  in  his  place 
on  the  day  of  need. 


178  MEMOIRS    OF 

"  He  also  told  me,  that  he  had  in  his  hands  £13  as  trea- 
surer of  the  barony  of  Ofifally,  and  £32  as  treasurer  to  the 
county  of  Kildare,  which  two  sums  he  would  take  care  to  have 
handed  over  to  me.  Lord  Edward  then  went  away  from  the 
house  in  disguise,  under  care  of  a  gentleman  whom  I  believe 
to  have  been  a  Mr,  Lawless,  a  surgeon." 

That  Reynolds  promptly  gave  information  to  his  employers 
of  the  place  and  circumstances  of  this  interview,  there  can  be 
hardly  any  doubt  ;  and  that  they  should  have  let  pass  such 
an  opportunity  of  seizing  their  noble  prey,  can  only  be  ac- 
counted for  either  by  his  quick  change  of  place,  Avhich  baffled 
their  pursuit,  or  more  probably  by  that  wish  to  afford  him  a 
chance  of  quitting  the  country,  which  it  is  well  known  one  at 
least  of  the  powerful  members  of  the  cabinet  at  this  time  en- 
tertained. The  thought  of  abandoning,  however,  for  a  single 
moment,  the  post  of  peril  assigned  to  him,  had  never  once 
entered  into  Lord  Edward's  dauntless  mind.  The  very  cala- 
mity that  had  just  befallen  the  cause  but  bound  a  spirit  like 
his  more  ardently  to  its  service.  To  repair  the  breaches  made 
in  the  organization  by  these  arrests, — no  less  than  three  mem- 
bers of  the  Leinster  executive  *  havino-  been  seized  at  Bond's, 
— was  now  the  first  great  object  of  his  lordship  and  his  friends  ; 
and,  with  such  promptitude  was  this  effected,  that,  on  the 
very  evening  of  the  arrests,  three  other  persons  were  found  to 
fill  the  vacant  places.  So  anxious,  indeed,  were  they  to  have 
it  supposed  by  the  people  that  this  discovery  had  but  little 
deranged  their  plans,  that  we  find  shortly  after,  one  of  the 
delegates,  in  his  report  to  an  Leister  meeting,  assuring  them 
confidently,  that  the  Leinster  committee  had  recovered  wholly 
from  their  shock,  and  that  within  four  days  after  the  arrests, 
the  whole  province  had  been  again  completely  organized. 

In  order  to  calm,  too,  the  minds  of  their  followers,  and 
prevent  either  the  panic  of  some,  or  the  premature  violence 
of  others,  from  having  any  injurious  consequences,  they  drew 
up  hand-bills,  in  styles  suited  to  their  various  readers,  and  had 
them  distributed  among  the  initiated.  From  one  of  these  the 
following  ably  written  paragraphs  are  extracted  : — 

*  Towards  the  close  of  the  year  1797,  instead  of  the  affairs  of  the 
Union  being,  as  before,  under  the  control  of  one  supreme  directory, 
sitting  in  Dublin,  there  was  an  executive  committee  established  for 
each  of  the  four  provinces. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  179 

"  For  us,  the  keen  but  momenturj  anxiety,  occasioned  by  the 
situation  of  our  invakiable  friends,  subsided,  on  learning  all 
the  circumstances  of  the  case,  into  a  cahn  tranquilUty,  a  con- 
soling^ conviction  of  mind,  that  they  are  as  safe  as  innocence 
can  make  men  no\Y  ;  to  these  sentiments  were  quickly  added 
a  redoubled  energ-y,  a  tenfold  activity  of  exertion  which  has 
already  produced  the  happiest  effects.  The  organization  of 
the  capital  is  perfect  ;  no  vacancies  existing.  Arrangements 
have  been  made,  and  are  still  making,  to  secure  for  our  op- 
pressed brethren,  whose  trials  approach,  the  benefit  of  legal 
defence  :  and  the  sentinels  whom  you  have  appointed  to  watch 
over  your  interests  stand  firm  at  their  posts,  vigilant  of  events, 
and  prompt  to  give  notice  and  advice,  which,  on  every  occa- 
sion at  all  requiring  it,  you  may  rely  on  receiving. 

''  This  recital.  Irishmen,  is  meant  to  guard  those  of  you 
who  are  remote  from  the  scene  of  the  late  events  against  the 
conseqnences  of  misrepresentation  and  mistake.  The  most 
unfounded  rumours  have  been  set  afloat,  fabricated  for  the 
double  purpose  of  delusion  and  intimidation.  Your  enemies 
talk  of  treachery,  in  the  vain  and  fallacious  hope  of  creating 
it ;  but  you,  vrho  scorn  equally  to  be  their  dupes  or  their  slaves, 
will  meet  their  forgeries  with  dignified  contempt,  incapable  of 
being  either  goaded  into  untimely  violence,  or  sunk  into  pusil- 
lanimous despondency.  Be  firm.  Irishmen,  but  be  cool  and 
cautious  ;  be  patient  yet  a  while  ;  trust  to  no  unauthorized 
communications  ;  and,  above  all,  we  warn  you,  again  and 
again  we  warn  you,  against  doing  the  work  of  your  tyrants, 
by  premature,  by  partial,  or  divided  exertion.  If  Ireland 
shall  be  forced  to  throw  away  the  scabbard,  let  it  be  at  her 
own  time,  not  at  theirs. 

"Dublin,  March  ITtli  (St.  Patrick's  Day),  1798." 

While  putting  in  train  all  these  measures  for  the  retrieval 
of  their  affairs,  another  essential  object  with  them  was  to  pro- 
cure, somewhere  near  Dublin,  a  place  of  concealment  for  their 
noble  leader,  till  circumstances  should  require  his  presence  ia 
the  capital.  With  this  view  Mr.  Lawless, — the  gentleman 
mentioned  in  Reynolds's  evidence, — applied  to  a  friend  of  his, 
a  widow  lady,  who  occupied  a  retired  house  on  the  banks  of 
the  canal,*  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  Dublin  ;  and 

*  ^r3.  Dillon,  n«ar  the  first  lock  on  the  Grand  Canal. 


180  MEMOIRS    OF 

who,  besides  being  known  not  to  entertain  sentiments  un- 
friendly to  the  popular  cause,  was  a  person  of  that  strong 
character  of  mind  and  generosity  of  spirit  which  alone  can 
qualify  women  to  be  heroines  in  such  exigencies.  To  her 
sympatliy  Mr.  Lawless  felt  assured  his  appeal  in  behalf  of 
his  friend  would  not  be  vain.  Though  knowing;  nothino: 
more  of  Lord  Edward  than  what  fame  brought  to  every  ear, 
she  consented,  perilous  as  was  such  hospitality,  to  afford  him 
the  shelter  of  her  roof ;  and  it  was  to  this  lady's  house  that, 
on  the  night  of  the  Thursday  after  the  arrest  at  Bond's,  he 
was  conveyed,  in  disguise,  by  Mr.  Lawless, — having  contrived 
to  see  Lady  Edward  and  his  children  before  he  went. 

Her  ladyship  had,  immediately  on  the  disappearance  of 
Lord  Edward,  removed  from  the  Duke  of  Leinster's  to  a 
house  in  Denzille-street,  taking  with  her  an  attached  female 
servant,  and  her  husband's  favourite  Tony.  The  two  latter 
believed, — as  did  most  people, — that  their  master  had  fled  to 
Frauce,  and  it  was  therefore  with  no  small  surprise  that  the 
maid-servant  (as  she  herself  told  the  person  from  whom  I  heard 
the  anecdote)  saw,  on  going  into  her  lady's  room  late  in  the 
evening,  his  lordship  and  Lady  Edward  sitting  together  by  the 
light  of  the  fire.  The  youngest  child  had,  at  his  desire,  been 
brought  down  out  of  its  bed  for  him  to  see  it,  and  both  he 
and  Lady  Edward  were,  as  the  maid  thought,  in  tears. 

The  name  he  went  by  while  at  the  house  of  the  widow  lady 
was  Jameson,  and  an  old  and  faithful  maid-servant  of  the 
family  was  the  only  person  allowed  to  wait  upon  him.  He 
had  not,  however,  Ijeen  more  than  tvro  days  in  the  house, 
when  one  of  those  slight  accidents  which  seem  to  defy  all 
caution  made  the  secret  known  to  the  whole  family.  A  pair 
of  his  boots  having  been  left  outside  his  door  to  be  cleaned, 
the  man-servant  to  whom  they  had  been  given  for  that  pur- 
pose told  his  mistress  afterward  that  he  knew  "  who  the  gen- 
tleman up-stairs  was  ; — but  that  she  need  not  fear,  for  he 
would  die  to  save  him."  He  then  showed  her  Lord  Edward's 
name  written,  at  full  length,  in  one  of  the  boots.  Thinking 
it  possible  that,  after  such  a  discovery,  her  guest  might  deem 
it  dangerous  to  remain,  Mrs.  *  "^  mentioned  the  circumstance 
to  him.  But  his  fears  were  not  easily  awakened  : — "  What  a 
noble  fellow!"  he  exclaimed ;  "I  should  like  to  have  some 
talk  with  him."     In  the  hope  that  it  n:iight  be  an  incitement 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  181 

to  the  man's  fidelity,  the  lady  told  hhn  his  lordship's  wish  ; 
but  he  answered,  "No, — I  will  not  look  at  him — for,  if  they 
should  take  me  up,  I  can  then,  you  know,  swear  that  I  never 
saw  him.'- 

Though  Mr.  Lawless  had  requested  shelter  but  for  a  few 
davs  for  his  friend,  he  continued  to  remain  in  this  unsuspected 
retreat  near  a  mouth ;  and  as  it  was  feared  that  to  one  ac- 
customed so  much  to  exercise  confinement  might  prove  inju- 
rious, he  used  to  walk  out,  most  nights,  along  the  banks  of 
the  canal,  accompanied  generally  by  a  child,  who  became  a 
great  favourite  of  his,  and  whom  it  was  his  amusement  some- 
times to  frighten  by  jumping  into  the  boats  that  were  half- 
sunk  in  the  reservoir  or  basin  of  the  canal.  So  light-hearted, 
indeed,  and  imprudent  was  he  at  times,  that  Mrs.  *  *,  who, 
during  his  absence  on  these  walks,  was  kept  in  a  constant 
state  of  anxiety  and  suspense,  used  often  to  hear  him,  at  a 
considerable  distance,  laughing  with  his  young  companion,  and 
more  than  once  went  out  to  meet  them,  and  try  to  impress 
upon  him  the  necessity  of  more  caution. 

Another  subject  of  merriment  between  him  and  his  young 
playfellow  arose  from  a  large  bed  of  orange  lilies  which  grew 
at  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  and  which  they  had  conspired 
together  to  root  up,  some  day,  when  Mrs.  "^  *  should  be  from 
home. 

Among  the  kind  and  attaching  qualities  by  which  her  noble 
guest  was  distinguished,  none  struck  Mrs.  *  *  more  forcibly 
than  the  affectionate  solicitude  with  which  he  never  ceased  to 
think  of  Lady  Edward  and  his  children ;  and,  in  order  to 
tranquillize  his  anxieties  on  this  head,  she  herself  went  more 
than  once  to  Denzille-street,  —  taking  every  precaution,  of 
course,  against  being  watched  or  tracked, — to  make  inquiries 
about  his  family.  She  found  Lady  Edward,  who  always  ran 
to  embrace  her  as  if  they  had  been  the  oldest  friends,  full  of 
gratitude  for  the  attentions  bestowed  upon  her  husband  ;  and 
she  also,  in  the  course  of  these  visits,  saw  the  faithful  Tony, 
w^ho  lamented  to  her  that  "his  unfortunate  face  prevented 
him  from  going  to  see  his  dear  master."' 

Of  the  feelings  of  his  lordship's  family  during  this  interval, 
wholly  uncertain  as  they  were  all  left  respecting  his  fate,  the 
following  letter  to  Lord  Henry  Fitzgerald  from  one  of  his  re- 


182  MEMOIRS    OF 

latives  may  afford  some  notion.     Lord  Henry  was  at  the  time 
at  Boyle  Farm,  his  villa  on  the  Thames  : — 

Hanover  Square,  21st  March,  1798. 

"  My  Dear  Henry, 

"  I  have  been  making  all  possible  inquiry,  and  find  that  no 
further  accomits  respecting  Edward  have  arrived.  There  is  a 
mail  to-day  from  Waterford,  which,  I  understand,  mentions 
that  several  families  had  fled  to  Bristol.  I  find  your  family 
here  are  easv,  and  satisfied  with  the  accounts  thev  have  re- 
ceived.  I  wish  thev  mav  have  reason  to  be  so,  but  I  hear 
reports  so  very  different,  and  from  such  authority,  that  I  can- 
not entirely  disbelieve  them.  I  confess  I  should  not  have  the 
least  reliance  on  Lady  Edward's  story,  as  I  believe  it  to  be  a 
fact  that  a  pocket-book  of  great  consequence  is  now  in  the 
hands  of  the  Duke  of  Portland,  and  which  was  taken  from 
her. 

"  It  is  said  that  his  escape  will  probably  be  connived  at, 
thouorh  I  believe  that  to  be  verv  far  from  the  wishes  of  our 
ministers  in  England.  If  I  hear  anything,  you  may  depend 
upon  my  letting  you  know  immediately.  Let  me  hear  if  you 
intend  being  in  town  this  week  or  soon.  I  most  sincerely  feel 
for  you  all,  and  hope  that,  before  it  is  long,  you  will  have  ac- 
counts that  will  set  your  minds  at  ease.  I  returned  from 
Bulstrode  yesterday.  I  hope  our  party  there  may  still  take 
place  shortly.  Remember  me  kindly  to  Lady  Henry.  Assure 
her,  I  pity  her  sincerely  for  being  drawn  into  a  fatal  connexion 
with  such  a  nest  of  Jacobins. 

*'  Adieu.     Ever  vours, 

"  E.  L." 

I  have  already  mentioned  that  there  was,  about  the  time  of 
the  arrests  at  Bonds,  a  very  sincere  wish  on  the  part  of  one  of 
the  principal  members  of  the  Irish  cabinet,  that  Lord  Edward's 
friends  might  be  able  to  induce  him,  by  timely  flight,  to  avert 
the  fate  which,  it  was  then  evident,  hung  over  him  ;  and,  how- 
ever strong  the  abhorrence  in  which  I  must  ever  hold  Lord 
Clare's  political  conduct,  it  gives  me,  for  more  than  one  reason, 
no  ordinary  pleasure  to  be  able  so  far  to  do  justice  to  the  kind- 
lier feelings  of  his  nature,  as  to  state  that  it  was  by  him  this 
truly  humane  and  generous  wish  was  entertained. 


LORD  ED"^ARD  FITZGERALD.  183 

A  short  time  before  the  arrests  of  the  1 2th  of  March,  when 
the  government  were  ah*eady  furnished  with  fall  proof  against 
Lord  Edward,  Mr.  Ogilvie,  who  had  been  himself  but  too 
painfully  aware  of  the  extent  to  which  his  young  relative  had 
committed  himself  in  the  conspiracy,  hurried  over  to  DuliHn, 
for  the  purpose  of  making  one  more  effort  to  impress  uj)on  him 
the  fearfulness  of  his  position,  and  endeavour  to  detach  him 
from  the  confederacy.  In  an  interview  which  he  had,  shortly 
after  his  arrival,  with  Lord  Clare,  that  nobleman  expressed 
himself  with  the  most  friendly  warmth  on  the  subject,  saying, 
"  For  God's  sake  get  this  voung  man  out  of  the  countrv  :  the 
ports  shall  be  thrown  open  to  you,  and  no  hindrance  whatever 
offered." 

Lord  Edward  was,  however,  immoveable  :  at  the  very  time 
when  Mr.  Ogilvie  called  upon  him,  there  was  a  meeting  of  the 
chief  conspirators  in  the  house,  and  his  lordship  came  out  of 
the  room  where  they  were  assembled  to  speak  with  him.  In 
vain  did  his  adviser  try  every  means  of  argument  and  persua- 
sion :  though  as  alive  as  ever  to  the  kindness  of  his  old  friend, 
the  noble  chief  could  only  answer,  "  It  is  now  out  of  the  ques- 
tion :  I  am  too  deeply  pledged  to  these  men  to  be  able  to 
withdraw  with  honour." 

It  is  right  to  add,  that  as  the  plans  of  the  plot  became  fur- 
ther unfolded,  the  alarm  of  the  government  for  their  own  ex- 
istence superseded  every  other  thought,  and  all  considerations 
of  mercy  were  lost  in  their  fears.  At  the  period,  therefore, 
where  we  are  now  arrived,  the  search  after  his  lordship,  by  the 
emissaries  of  authority,  was  pursued  with  as  much  eagerness 
as  political  zeal,  urged  by  fear  and  revenge,  could  inspire. 

As  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  find  a  retreat  more  suited 
to  his  purpose,  he  would,  no  doubt,  have  remained  at  Mrs.*  *  's 
some  time  longer,  had  not  a  circumstance  which  now  occurred 
awakened  some  fears  for  his  safety.  During  the  absence  one 
day,  of  the  lady  of  the  house,  the  maid-servant  came  in  alarm 
to  tell  him  that  she  had  just  seen  a  guard  of  soldiers,  with 
fixed  bayonets,  pass  on  the  other  side  of  the  canal.  "  And  I, 
too,  said  Lord  Edward,  "  have  observed,  within  these  ten 
minutes,  a  man  whom  I  know  to  be  a  police-officer  looking  up 
earnestly  at  the  house."  The  maid,  whose  terrors  were 
naturally  increased  by  the  responsibility  now  thrown  upon  her, 
made  him  instantly  put  on  a  lady's  night-dress  and  get  into 


184  MEMOIRS  OF 

bed  ;  then  darkening  the  room,  as  for  a  person  indisposed,  she 
placed  a  table,  with  medicine-bottles  upon  it,  beside  the  bed. 
In  this  situation  he  remained  for  two  hours, — but  neither  police- 
man nor  soldiers  again  made  their  appearance  ;  and  the  scene 
served  but  as  a  subject  of  mirth  for  the  evening's  conversation. 
It  excited,  however,  some  fears  ; — even  his  own  sense  of  secu- 
rity w^as  disturbed  by  it,  and  his  friends  thought  it  most  pru- 
dent that  he  should,  for  a  time  at  least,  remove  to  Dublin, 
where,  in  the  house  of  a  respectable  feather-merchant,  named 
Murphy,  in  Thomas-street,  he  was  to  be  allowed  to  lie  concealed 
for  some  days. 

"While  the  noble  fugitive  was  thus  evading  their  toils,  the 
government,  whose  apprehensions  still  increased  in  proportion 
as  fresh  disclosures,  every  day,  revealed  to  them  the  extent  to 
which  the  foundations  of  their  authority  had  been  undermined, 
made  the  whole  country  at  length  participators  of  their  panic 
by  a  proclamation  which  appeared  on  the  30th  of  March,  de- 
clarino'  the  entire  kiuo-dom  in  a  state  of  rebellion  :  and  at  the 
same  time  with  this  proclamation  appeared  an  order  signed  by 
Sir  Ralph  Abercrombie,  authorizing  the  troops  to  act  without 
waiting  for  the  authority  of  a  civil  magistrate.'^ 

*  It  was  on  finding  himself,  as  he  thought,  compelled  by  a  sense  of 
obedience  to  affix  his  name  to  this  order,  in  opposition  to  all  liis  own 
expressed  opinions  both  in  public  and  in  the  council,  that  Sir  R.  Aber- 
crombie wrote  to  request  that  lie  might  be  recalled  from  his  command. 
There  could  scarcely,  indeed,  be  any  severer  comment  upon  the  acts 
of  the  Irisli  government  at  this  period  than  what  a  record  of  the 
opinions  entertained  of  it,  both  by  Sir  Ralph  Abercrombie  and  Sir 
John  Moore  would  furnish.  Called  to  act,  as  they  were,  in  this  fright- 
ful struggle,  at  a  time  when  its  last  convulsion  was  so  near,  and  when, 
— if  ever, — the  violence  of  the  government  might  seem  to  be  justified 
by  its  danger,  these  humane  and  sensible  men  yet  saw  too  clearly  how 
the  danger  had  been  brought  about  to  feel  much  sympathy  for  the 
part\^  whose  own  inj^ustice  had  provoked  it;  nor,  while  loyally  assisting 
the  authorities  in  their  present  measures  of  self-defence,  could  they 
forget  that  a  little  more  tolerance  and  justice  would  have  rendered 
such  measures  unnecessary.  Neither  was  it  so  much  to  the  govern- 
ment as  to  the  gentry  of  the  old  dominant  party  that  the  mischiefs 
which  the}-  saw,  both  actual  and  to  come  were  attributed  by  them ; 
for  it  is  known  that  Sir  John  Moore,  in  reporting  to  the  lord-lieutenant 
the  state  of  quiet  to  which,  in  the  summer  of  1798,  the  county  of 
Wicklo'.v  had  been  reclaimed  b}'  him,  added,  that  "  though  the  presence 
of  the  troops  might  perhaps  be  necessary  for  some  time  longer,  it  would 
be  more  to  check  the  yeomen  and  Protestants  than  the  people  m 
general." 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  185 

As  this  revival  of  the  famous  order  of  Lord  Carhampton, 
in  179T,  gave  full  loose  to  all  the  license  of  the  soldiery,  while 
by  indemnity  bills  the  magistracy  were  no  less  encouraged  to 
pass  the  bounds  of  the  law,  those  who  know  what  an  Orange 
Magistrate  was  in  those  times  of  terror,  and  recollect  Sir  Ralph 
Abercrombie's  own  description  of  th^  army  then  under  him, 
that  "  it  was  in  a  state  of  licentiousness  that  rendered  it  for- 
midable to  every  one  but  the  enemy,"  may  be  left  to  picture 
to  themselves  some  of  the  horrors  to  which,  between  bench 
and  camp,  the  people  of  Ireland  were  now  systematically 
delivered  up  by  their  rulers.  That  it  was  done  on  system  has 
been  since  avowed, — the  professed  object  being  to  goad  the 
wretched  multitude  into  revolt  before  the  arrival  of  a  French 
force  should  render  their  outbreak  more  formidable  ;  and  with 
such  over-zeal  and  efficacy  was  this  work  of  torture  performed, 
that  in  the  county  of  Wexford,  where  the  United  Irish  system 
had  but  little  extended  itself,  the  effects  of  the  floggings  and 
burnings  now  introduced  there  by  the  loyalists  was  to  convert 
it  into  one  of  the  worst  hotbeds  of  the  rebellion  that  followed. 

While  such  was  the  plan  of  the  government,  upon  Lord 
Edward  and  his  friends,  whose  policy  it  was  to  prevent  a  pre- 
mature rising,  fell  the  far  more  difficult  task  of  reining  in  the 
impatience  of  the  maddened  people,  so  as  not,  at  the  same 
time,  to  break  their  spirit  or  allow  them  to  fancy  themselves 
deceived.  To  effect  this  purpose,  all  the  influence  of  the  ex- 
ecutive was  now  directed, — weakened,  however,  as  that  influ- 
ence had  to  a  considerable  extent,  become,  as  well  from  the 
necessary  disappearance  of  Lord  Edward  himself  from  the 
scene, "^^  as  from  the  far  inferior  intellects  that  had  now  joined 


*  That  he  was  not  lost  sight  of,  however,  in  the  "mind's  eye"  of  the 
people  appears  from  ]>assages  such  as  the  following,  in  the  publications 
of  the  da}^ : — "  And  thou,  noble-minded  j'outh,  whose  princely  virtues 
acquire  new  splendour  from  a  fervent  zeal  for  your  country's  rights, — ■ 
oh  may  the  Genius  of  Liberty,  ever  faithful  to  its  votaries,  guard  your 
steps  ! — may  the  new  harp  of  Erin  vibrate  its  thrilling  sounds  through 
the  land  to  call  you  forth  and  hail  vou  with  the  angelic  crv  of  the 
Deliverer  of  our  Country!"  (Marcli  27,  1798.)  In  another  address 
we  find — "When  an  O'Connor  is  hunted  from  liis  country  for  the 
crime  of  loving  Ireland,  when  Fitzgerald  is  a  fugitive  for  sacrificing 
the  prejudices  of  birth  to  accelerate  the  happiness  of  his  native  land, 
<tc.  <L'c." 


186  MEMOIRS    OF 

him  at  the  hehu  ;  Mr.  Lawless*  being  the  only  man  of  real 
ability  whom  the  late  seizure  of  the  other  chiefs  had  left  re- 
maining by  his  side.  All  was  done,  however,  that,  under  such 
circumstances,  could  be  effected,  to  sustain  the  liopes  of  the 
people  ;  and  early  in  April,  we  find  delegates  despatched  to 
the  North  and  elsewhere,  to  spread  the  intelligence  that  all 
was  in  readiness  in  the  French  ports  for  invasion,  and  that 
about  the  middle  of  the  month  it  was  expected  the  troops 
would  be  on  board. 

But  while  holding  forth  this  expectation  to  their  followers, 
the  chiefs  themselves  could  not  but  be  well  aware  that  their 
chance  of  any  effective  assistance  from  France  was  now  con- 
siderably diminished.  At  no  time,  indeed,  among  a  purely 
military  people  like  the  French,  could  a  species  of  warfare  so 
much  dependent  upon  naval  tactics  for  its  success  have  been 
expected  to  be  very  popular  ;  and  the  result  of  the  two  ex- 
periments, on  a  grand  scale,  against  Ireland  was  not  such  as 
could  tend  to  remove  their  indisposition  to  such  enterprises. 
The  gallant  Hoche,  who  alone  felt  sanguinely  on  this  subject, 
was  now  no  more  ;  and  the  great  man  who  was  at  this  time 
beginning  to  direct  the  fortunes  of  France  looked  with  no 
favouring  eye  either  upon  the  Irish  or  their  cause. 

At  this  time,  indeed,  when  the  termination  of  his  glorious 
campaign  in  Italy  left  Buonaparte  at  leisure  to  turn  his  atten- 
tion to  this  subject,  the  number  of  fugitives  from  Ireland  in 
Paris  had  very  much  increased  ;  and  the  indifferent  characters 
of  some,  with  the  mutual  jealousies  and  bickerings  of  almost 
all, — each  setting  himself  forth  as  more  important  and  trust- 
worthy than  the  others, — brought  discredit  both  on  them- 
selves and  on  the  country  of  which  they  were  the  self-elected 
organs.  Neither  can  it  be  at  all  doubted  that  Buonaparte, 
at  this  period  of  his  career,  when  already  he  saw  the  imperial 
crown  glimmering  in  the  distance,  had  begun  to  shrink  from 
the  contact  of  revolutionists  and  levellers,  and  to  view  with 
feelings  anticipatory,  as  it  were,  of  the  future  Emperor,  those 

*  This  gentleman,  whom  I  knew  slightly,  and  who  was  a  person  of 
that  mild  and  quiet  exterior  which  is  usually  found  to  accompany  the 
most  determined  spirits,  made  his  escape  to  France  at  the  time  of  the 
apprehension  of  the  ISheares's,  and  rising  afterwards  to  be  a  genei-al 
in  the  French  service,  lost  a  leg  in  one  of  the  engagements  at  "Wal- 
cberen. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  18T 

principles  out  of  which  his  own  power  had  sprung  ; — well 
knowing  that  these  principles  were  even  more  i)otent  to  over- 
turn than  to  elevate,  and  that  he  had  lienceforth  no  choice  but 
to  be  their  victim  or  their  master.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at,  therefore,  that  a  race  like  tiie  Irish,  among  whom  rebellion 
had,  he  knew,  been  handed  down,  from  age  to  age,  as  a  sort 
of  birth-right,  should  be  regarded  by  the  candidate  for  empire 
with  no  very  friendly  eye,  or  that  the  energies  of  Franco 
which  he  now  wielded  should  be  diverted  to  objects  more  con- 
sonant with  his  designs.  Had  he  happened  to  view  Ireland 
and  her  cause  witli  Hoche's  eyes,  who  can  say  what  might 
have  been  the  result  ? — That  he  himself,  in  his  latter  days, 
repented  of  not  having  played  the  game  of  ambition  other- 
wise, appears  strongly  from  his  own  avowal  at  St.  Helena  : — 
"  If  instead,"  he  is  represented  to  say,  "  of  the  expedition  to 
Egypt,  I  had  undertaken  that  against  Ireland,  what  could 
England  have  done  now  ? — On  such  chances  do  the  destinies 
of  empires  depend  ! "  * 

We  left  Lord  Edward  on  his  way  from  Mrs.  *  *  's  to  take 
refuge  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Murphy  of  Thomas-street,  wliither 
he  was  brought  by  his  friend  Lawless,  wrapped  up  in  a  coun- 
tryman's great-coat,  and,  in  order  the  more  completely  to  dis- 
guise him,  wearing  a  pig-tailed  wig.  Though  his  host  had 
seen  him  frequently  before,  he  was  now,  for  the  first  time, 
made  known  to  him  as  an  acquaintance.  During  th^  fortnight 
his  lordship  passed  with  him  at  this  period,  he  lived  much  the 
same  sort  of  life  as  at  Mrs.  *  *'s,  walking  out  often  at  night, 
along  with  his  host,  by  the  canal,  and  receiving  the  visits  but 

*  "  Si  au  lieu  de  I'expedition  de  TEgypte,  j'eusse  fait  cello  de  I'lr- 
lande, — si  de  legers  derangements  n'avaient  mis  obstacle  a  mon  entre- 
prise  de  Boulogne,  que  pourrait  I'Angleterre  aujourd'hui  ?  A  quoi 
tierinent  les  destinees  des  empires !  "-^Memoires  de  Las  Casas.  If  there 
be  not  some  error  in  reporting  this  remark  of  Xapoleon.  it  would  ap- 
pear to  imply,  that  Ireland  -svas,  after  all,  the  real  object  of  the  Bou- 
logne armament. — See,  for  some  remarks  upon  this  subject,  the  acute 
and  able  Commentary  on  the  Memoirs  of  Tone,  by  Colonel  Roche 
Fermoy. 

So  ill  protected  was  the  south  of  Ireland  at  this  time,  notwithstand- 
ing all  the  warnings  that  had  been  given,  that  when  Sir  Ralph  Alter- 
cronibie  made  a  calculation  of  the  number  of  troops  that  could  be 
collected,  in  case  the  enemy  should  appear  at  Bantrj-  or  the  Shannon, 
he  found  that,  in  the  course  of  four  or  five  days,  six  thousand  would 
W  the  utmost  he  could  muster ! 


188  MEMOIRS    OF 

of  two  or  three  persons,  among  whom  were,  if  I  am  rightly 
informed,  Major  Plunket  *  and  another  miUtary  gentleman, 
of  the  rank  of  colonel,  named  Lumra.  To  this  latter  officer 
Lord  Edward  had  despatched  a  note,  immediately  on  his  ar- 
rival, by  Murphy,  who  returned,  attended  by  Colonel  Lumm, 
to  Thomas-street,  taking  the  precaution  to  walk  before  him 
all  the  way. 

As  it  was  now  more  than  a  month  since  he  had  seen  any 
of  his  family,  he  could  no  longer  restrain  his  impatience  for 
an  interview  with  them,  but,  insisting  that  Mr.  Murphy  should 
dress  him  in  woman's  clothes,  went,  attended  by  his  host,  in 
that  disguise,  to  Denzille-street.  The  surprise,  however,  had 
nearly  proved  fatal  to  Lady  Edward.  Some  friend  being  with 
her  at  the  moment,  the  servant  came  to  say  that  there  was  a 
lady  in  the  parlour  waiting  to  see  her  ;  and,  on  Lady  Edward 
discoveriuij;  who  it  was,  and  that  he  meant  to  remain  till  next 
night,  her  alarm  at  his  danger,  and  her  anxiety  about  his  re- 
turn, brought  on  a  premature  confinement,  and  her  second 
daughter,  Lucy,  was  then  born. 

From  the  house  of  Mr.  Murphy,  his  lordship,  at  the  end  of 
a  fortnight,  was  removed  to  Mr.  Cormick's  another  feather- 
merciiant,  in  the  same  street  ;  and,  between  this  and  the  resi- 
dence of  Mr.  Moore,  but  a  few  doors  distant,  contrived  to 
pass  his  time  safe  from  detection  till  about  the  first  week  in 
May.  As  the  connexions  of  Cormick  and  Moore,  both  men 
of  extensive  trade,  lay  chiefly  among  that  class  of  persons 
who  were  most  likely  to  be  implicated  in  the  conspiracy,  their 
houses  were  of  course  the  resort  of  most  of  those  individuals 
with  whom  it  was  of  importance  that  Lord  Edward  should 
communicate  upon  the  business  he  had  in  train, — a  convenience 
which,  while  it  facilitated  his  plans  of  concert  with  his  follow- 
ers, at  the  same  time  endangered  his  safety,  by  putting  in  the 
power  of  so  many  more  persons  the  secret  of  his  concealment- 
It  is,  indeed,  suspected  by  those  best  acquainted  with  his  posi- 
tion at  this  period,  that  it  was  among  the  company  he  so 
rashly  permitted  to  be  collected  around  him  at  Cormick's  and 

*  To  this  gentleman,  who  had  been  in  the  Austrian  service,  I  find 
the  following  allusion  in  the  Personal  Narrative  of  tlje  Rebellion  by 
Mr.  Charles  Teeling : — "  Pluuket,  that  intrepid  soldier  of  fortune, 
whose  fame  will  be  recorded  while  Buda  or  the  Danube  are  remem- 
bered." 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  189 

Moore's,  that  lie  met  the  person  whose  imprudence  or  treach- 
ery afterward  betrayed  him.  How  unguardedly  his  hfe  was 
placed  at  the  mercy  of  every  chance  visiter  will  be  seen  hy 
the  following  extracts  from  the  evidence  of  a  person  of  the 
name  of  Hughes,  takeu  before  a  committee  of  the  Lords,  in 
August,  1798. 

"  Deponent  went  to  Dublin  on  the  20th  of  April,  and  re- 
mained there  about  nine  days.  He  called  on  Samuel  Neilson, 
and  walked  with  him  to  Mr.  Cormick,  a  feather-merchant  in 
Thomas-street.  He  was  introduced  by  Neilson  to  Cormick, 
in  the  office.  Cormick  asked  them  to  go  up  stairs  ;  he  and 
Keilson  went  up  stairs,  and  found  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald 
and  Mr.  Lawless,  the  surgeon,  playing  at  billiards.  He  had 
been  introduced  to  Lord  Edward,  about  a  year  before,  by 
Teeling  ;  he  was  a  stranger  to  Lawless  ;  staid  about  an  hour  ; 
no  particular  conversations  ;  was  invited  to  dine  there  that 
day,  and  did  so  ;  the  company  were,  Lord  Edward,  Lawless, 
Neilson,  Cormick,  and  his  wife.  The  conversation  turned 
upon  the  state  of  the  country,  and  the  violent  measures  of 
government  in  letting  the  army  loose.  The  company  were  all 
of  opinion,  that  there  was  then  no  chance  of  the  jDcople  resist- 
ing by  force  with  any  success." 

Notwithstanding  the  opinion  here  reported,  it  had,  at  this 
time,  become  manifest,  both  to  Lord  Edward  himself  and  the 
greater  number  of  those  who  acted  with  him,  that  the  appeal 
to  arms  could  not  be  much  longer  delayed  ;  and  that,  there 
being  now  little  hope  of  the  promised  aid  from  France,  by 
Irish  hands  alone  must  the  cause  of  Ireland  be  lost  or  won. 
Among  those  who  had,  from  the  first,  insisted  on  the  necessity 
of  French  aid,  one  or  two  still  strongly  deprecated  any  unas- 
sisted effort,  and  even  withdrew  from  the  meetings  of  the  con- 
spiracy on  learning  that  such  a  course  was  to  be  pursued. 
Well  intentioned,  however,  as  were  the  views  of  these  persons. 
Lord  Edward  could  not  but  recollect,  that  to  the  prevalence 
of  the  same  timid  advisers,  in  the  year  1797,  was  owing  the 
loss  of  one  of  the  most  precious  moments  for  action  that  for- 
tune had  ever  presented  to  them  ;  when  their  Union  was  still 
in  full  strength  and  heart,  and  treachery  had  not  yet  found  its 
way  into  their  councils.  Even  granting,  too,  that  to  refrain 
from  action  would  have  been  the  true  policy  at  this  moment, 
such  a  course,  in  the  present  headlong  temper  of  th?  people — 


190  MEMOIRS    OF 

goaded,  as  they  were,  by  every  torment  that  tyranny  could 
devise, — had  become  wholly  impracticable.  It  was  not  for 
those,  tlierefore,  who  had  cheered  them  to  tlie  combat,  to  let 
them  now  plunge  into  it  alone,  nor,  however  desperate  the 
prospect  of  success,  to  shrink  from  sharing  the  worst  with 
them.  Such,  at  least,  were  the  generous  views  that  determin- 
ed Lord  Edward  to  take  his  chance  with  liis  fellow-country- 
men, and  the  event  was  not  far  from  proving  that  there  was 
almost  as  much  policy  as  generosity  in  his  resolution. 

That,  at  the  same  time,  too,  he  was  not  unmindful,  of  what 
these  more  prudent  persons  counselled,  appears  from  a  letter 
which,  about  the  beginning  of  May,  reached  him  at  Cormick's 
in  answer  to  a  request  made,  through  the  Irish  agent  at  Paris, 
that  a  force  not  exceeding  5000  men  should  be  sent  instantly 
to  their  succour.  The  communication  of  the  agent,  expressed 
in  ambiguous  phrase,  was  as  follows  : — "  I  have  just  received 
a  letter  from  L.,  who  has  made  application  to  the  trustees  for 
the  advance  of  iS5000  upon  your  estates,  which  they  refused, 
saying,  they  would  make  no  payment  short  of  the  entire,  and 
that  they  would  not  be  able  to  effect  that  for  four  months." 

To  wait  the  performance  of  this  promise, — a  delusory  one, 
as  events  afterward  proved, — was  now  considered  impossible  ; 
no  alternative  being  any  longer  left  to  the  people  but  either 
to  break  out  into  revolt  or  throw  themselves  on  the  mercy  of 
their  tormentors.  The  goading  system  had  done  its  work  ; 
discontent  had  been  ripened  into  rage  ;  and  the  half-hangings 
and  the  burnings,  the  picket  and  the  scourge,  had  left  little 
more  to  the  leaders  of  the  infuriated  multitude  than  to  direct 
that  rage  which  their  rulers  had  roused.  To  enter  into  de- 
tails of  the  cruelties  perpetrated  at  this  period  is  beyond  the 
scope  of  my  work.  But  it  may  be  sufficient  to  say,  that  if, 
out  of  the  great  mass  of  uneducated  Catholics,  by  whom,  dis- 
organized and  without  leaders,  the  partial  rebellion  that  broke 
out  afterward  was  sustained,  there  were  some  guilty  of  atro- 
cities that  have  left  a  stain  on  the  Irish  name,  they  therein 
showed  themselves  but  too  apt  learners  of  those  lessons  of 
cruelty  which  their  own  government  had,  during  the  few 
months  previous  to  the  insurrection,  taught  them. 

It  seemed  to  have  been  about  the  first  week  m  May  that 
the  resolution  was  finally  taken  to  prepare  for  a  general  rising 
before  the  end  of  that  month.     Intelligence  of  the  design  was 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  191 

transmitted  through  all  parts  of  the  Union,  and  arrangements 
made  with  the  executives  of  the  three  other  provinces,  so  as 
that  the  news  of  the  risings  of  their  respective  districts  sliouhl 
reach  Dublin  on  the  same  day  the  rebellion  broke  out  tliere. 
Of  such  importance  was  it  thought  to  prepare  the  south  for 
this  simultaneous  movement,  that  the  younger  Sheares,  who 
was  now  one  of  the  most  active  members  of  the  Leinster  exe- 
cutive, proceeded,  early  in  May,  to  Cork,  to  lay  the  train  for 
explosion  in  that  quarter. 

To  the  momentous  object  of  gaining  over  the  militias, 
among  whom  disaffection  had  already  spread  to  a  great  ex- 
tent, they  now  applied  themselves  with  a  degree  of  zeal,  or 
rather  of  headlong  rashness,  of  which  the  trial  of  the  unfortu- 
nate Sheares's  discloses  a  striking  example  :  and  such  a  foot- 
ing had  they,  at  this  time,  obtained  in  most  of  the  regiments, 
that  we  find  Lawless,  early  in  May,  holding  a  conference,  on 
the  subject  of  the  rising,  with  a  meeting  of  delegates  from 
almost  all  the  militias  in  Ireland.  By  the  plan  of  operations 
for  Leinster,  where  Lord  Edward  was  to  raise  his  standard,  it 
was  arranged  that  the  forces  of  the  three  counties  of  Duljlin, 
Wicklow,  and  Kildare  should  co-operate  in  an  advance  upon 
the  capital,  taking  by  surprise  the  camp  at  Lehaunstown,  and 
the  artillery  at  Chapelizod,  and  crowning  their  enterprise  by 
the  seizure  of  the  lord  lieutenant,  and  the  other  members  of 
the  government,  in  Dubhn.^*' 

*  Lord  Edward's  precise  views  on  the  subject  of  the  rising  of  the 
people  have  never  been  given  to  the  people,  they  are  now  laid  before 
it  in  the  following  memorandum  of  a  conversation  with  one  who  pos- 
sessed his  entire  confidence,  who  communicated  with  him  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  contemplated  rising  immediately  before  its  intended  out 
bi-eak,  and  who  fruitlessly  endeavoured  to  dissuade  him  from  it.  On 
the  accuracy  of  the  information  given  respecting  this  matter  the  m-ost 
implicit  confidence  may  be  reposed.  The  person  in  question  met 
Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  by  appointment  at  the  Shakespeare  Gallery, 
Exchange  street,  about  one  month  before  the  arrests  in  Marcli,  to  con- 
fer with  the  delegates  from  the  different  counties  respecting  the  pro- 
jected rising.  Alter  Lord  Edward  had  received  the  different  reports 
of  the  number  of  men  ready  for  the  field  in  the  different  counties,  he 
called  on  the  gentleman  above  referred  to  fur  his  opinion.  Lord  Ed- 
ward said,  "  he  deeply  regretted  his  friend  should  have  withdrawn 
himself  so  long  from  any  active  interference  in  the  business  of  the 
Union,  and  that  one  in  whose  judgment  he  so  much  confided,  should 
Btand  aloof  at  such  a  moment,  if  he  unfortunately   persisted  in  so 


192  "  MEMOIRS    OF 

As  it  was  now  known  that  the  pursuit  after  Lord  Edward 
was  becoming  every  day  more  active  and  eager,  his  friends  felt, 
at  last,  the  necessity  of  having  him  removed  to  some  fitter 

doing,  the  friends  of  the  Union  might  be  led  to  imagine  he  had  desert 
ed  them  in  the  hour  of  need,  that  lie.  Lord  Fitzgerald  had  determined 
on  an  immediate  and  general  rising  of  the  people,  their  impatience 
for  which  was  no  longer  to  be  restrained,  nor,  with  advantage  to  the 
cause,  to  be  resisted."  He  then  appealed  to  the  delegates  for  the 
truth  of  this  assertion,  and  his  opinion  was  confirmed  by  them.  His 
friend,  it  is  well  to  state,  had  withdrawn  himself  from  the  Union, 
about  the  beginning  of  the  year,  when  the  system  was  changed  from 
a  civil  to  a  militar^^  organization.  He  could  only  regard  this  change 
as  one  likeh'  to  direct  the  attention  of  their  opponents  to  their  pro- 
ceedings. In  fact,  the  people  had  not  been  sworn  in  at  this  time,  and 
no  danger  was  apprehended  from  them.  But  when  the  system  was 
changed,  and  secretaries,  and  chairmen,  and  delegates,  were  called 
captains,  and  colonels,  and  adjutant-generals,  a  military  aspect  was 
given  to  the  business  of  the  Union,  the  government  became  necessarily 
alarmed,  and  recourse  was  had  to  spies  and  informers.  The  danger 
of  this  course  was  obvious  to  those  who  felt  that  any  premature  dis- 
play of  militarj"  preparation  must  prove  fatal  to  their  cause.  >f  *  * 
The  gentleman  I  allude  to  informed  Lord  Edward,  though  he  had 
taken  no  part  for  some  time  in  the  affairs  of  the  L^nion,  he  did  not 
cease  to  give  his  opinion  when  consulted,  *  *  *  when  Lord  Edward 
had  spoken  of  his  deserting  the  cause,  the  latter  felt  hurt  by  the  ob- 
servation, and  replied  in  strong  terms  that  he  had  not  deserted  the 
people  nor  betrayed  their  cause,  but  those  people  had  done  so,  who 
had  precipitated  measures  prematurely  taken,  which  did  not  afford 
the  least  promise  of  success.  "  My  Lord,"  said  he,  "  I  am  not  a  per- 
son to  desert  a  cause  in  which  I  have  embarked,  *  *  *  but  when  I 
know  the  step  that  you  are  taking  will  involve  that  cause  in  the  great- 
est difnculties,  my  fears  are  great — I  tremble  for  the  result.  My  Lord, 
all  the  services  that  you  or  your  noble  house  have  ever  rendered  to 
the  country,  or  ever  can  render  to  it,  will  never  make  amends  to  the 
people  for  the  misery  and  wretchedness  the  failure  of  j-our  present 
plans  will  cause  them."  "  I  tell  you,"  replied  Lord  Edward  impetu- 
ously, "  the  chances  of  success  are  greatly  in  favour  of  our  atteinp*;, 
examine  these  returns — here  are  returns  which  show,  that  one  hund- 
red thousand  armed  men  may  be  counted  on  to  take  the  field."  "  My 
Lord,"  replied  his  friend,  "  it  is  one  tiling  to  have  a  hundred  thousand 
men  on  paper,  and  another  in  the  field.  A  hundred  thousand  men  on 
paper,  will  not  furnish  fifty  thousand  in  array.  I,  for  one,  am  enroll- 
ed amongst  the  number,  but  I  candidly  tell  you,  you  will  not  find  me 
in  your  ranks.  You  know  for  what  objects  we  joii'ed  this  Union,  and 
what  means  we  reckoned  on  for  carrying  them  into  effect.  Fifteen 
thousand  Frenchmen  were  considered  essential  to  our  undertaking. 
If  they  were  so  at  that  time,  still  more  so  are  they  now,  when  our 
warlike  aspect  has  caused  the  government  to  pour  troops  into  the 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  193 

place  of  concealment ;  and  as  none  offered  that  seemed  to 
combine  so  many  advantages,  both  of  security  and  comfort, 
as  his  former  asylum  at  Mrs.  *  *'s,  to  that  lady's  house  he 

countr}-."     "What!"  said  Lord  Edward,  "  would  you  atlempt  noth- 
ing without  those  fifteen  tliousaud  men — would  you  not  be  satisfied 
with  tea  thousand?"     "I  would,  niy  Lord,"  replied  his  friend,  "if 
the  aid  of  the  fifteen  could  not  be  procured."     "  But,"  continued  Lord 
Edward,  "  if  even  the  ten  could  not  be  got,  what  would  you  do  then?  " 
"  I  would  then  accept  of  five,  my  Lord,"  was  the  reply.     "  But,"  said 
Lord  Edward,  fixing  his  eyes  with  great  earnestness  on  him,  "  we  can- 
not get  five  thousand,  and  with  respect  to  the  larger  force  we  origi- 
nally wished  for,  had  we  succeeded,  wdth  so  large  a  body  of  French 
troops  we  might  have  found  it  difficult  to  get  rid  of  our  allies."     To 
this  it  was  replied,  "  my  Lord,  if  we  found  it  possible  to  get  rid  of 
our  enemies,  ten  times  as  numerous  as  our  allies,  we  could  have  little 
difficulty  in  getting  rid  of   the  latter  VN'heii  necessity  required  it." 
"But,  I  tell  you  we  cannot,"  said  Lord  Edward,  "get  even  the  five 
thousand  you  speak  of,  and  when  you  know  that  we  cannot,  will  you 
desert  our  cause  ? "     The  eyes  of  the  delegates  were  turned  on  the 
person  thus  addressed.  He  felt  that  Lord  Edward  had  put  the  matter 
in  such  a  light  before  those  present,  that  he  would  have  been  branded 
as  a  traitor  if  he  abandoned  the  cause  while  there  was  a  ray  of  hope 
for  its  success.     "  My  Lord,"  said  he,  "  if  five  thousand  men  could  not 
be   obtained,  I  would  seek  the  assistance  of  a  sufiicient  number  of 
French  oflicers  to  head  the  people,  and  with  three  hundred  of  these, 
perhaps  we  might  be  justified  in  making  an  eft'ort  for  independence, 
but  not  without  them.     What  military  men  have  we  of  our  own,  to 
lead  our  unfortunate  people  into  action  against  a  disciplined  army  ?  " 
Lord  Edward  ridiculed  the  idea  of  their  being  anything  like  disci- 
pline at  that  time  in  the  English  army.     "  Besides,  the  numbers,"  he 
said,  "  of  the  L^nited.  L-ishmen,  would  more  than  counterbalance  any 
superiority  in  the  discipline  of  their  enemies."     "  M\^  Lord,"  said  his 
friend,  "  we  must  not  be  deceived,  they  are  disciplined,  and  our  peo- 
ple are  not,  if  the  latter  are  repulsed  and  broken,  who  is  to  re-form 
their  lines  ?     Once  thrown  into  disorder,  the  greater  their  niambers, 
the  greater  will  be  the  havoc  made  amongst  them."     Lord  Edward 
said,  "  without  risking  a  general  engagement,  he  would  be  able  to  get 
possession  of  Dublin,"     "  Suppose  30U  did,  my  Lord,"  was  the  reply, 
"  the  possession  of  the  capital  would  not  insure  success,   and  even 
when  you  had  taken  the  city,  if  the  citizens  asked  to  see  the  army  of 
their  brave  deliverers,  which  might  be  encamped  in  the  Phu?nix  Park, 
the  citizens  would  naturally  expect  to  see  some  military  evolutions 
performed,  some  sort  of  military  array,  exhibited  on  such  an  occasion. 
Who  would  there  be,  my  Lord,  to  pxit  the  people  through  these  evo- 
lutions ?     What  officers  have  you,  to  teach  them  one  military  manoeu- 
vre, and  if  they  were  suddenly  attacked  b}'  an  army  in  the  rear, 
what  leader  accustomed  to  the  field  have  you  to  bring  tiiem  with  any 
advantage  to  the  attack  ?     You,  my  Lord,  are  the  only  military  maa 


194  MEMOIRS    OF 

was  again,  at  the  beginning  of  May,  conveyed.  Being  uncer- 
tain as  to  his  cominLi;  on  the  eveuino-  first  named,  Mrs.  *  *  had 
gone  to  the  house  of  a  neighbour,  having  left  word  at  home 
tliab  she  should  be  sent  for  "  if  Miss  Fitzgerald,  from  A  thy, 
arrived."  Though  so  fully  prepared  to  expect  him,  yet  such 
was  her  sense  of  the  risk  and  responsibility  she  so  heroically 
took  upon  herself,  that  when  the  servant  came,  between  eleven 
aud  twelve  at  night,  to  say  that  "  Miss  Fitzgerald,  from  Athy, 
had  arrived,-'  so  agitated  was  she  by  the  announcement  that 
she  actually  fainted. 

Lord  Edward's  conductors,  Messrs.  Cormick  and  Lawless, 
had  themselves  experienced  some  alarm  on  the  way,  having 
heard  voices  behind  as  they  came  along  the  canal  from  Thomas- 
street,  which  appeared  to  them  like  those  of  persons  eagerly 
in  pursuit.  In  their  anxiety  they  persuaded  his  lordship,  who 
was  all  the  while  laughing  at  their  fears,  to  lay  himself  down 
in  a  ditch,  by  the  road's  side,  till  these  people  (who,  after  all, 
proved  to  be  only  labourers  returning  home)  should  have 
passed  by  ;  and  the  plight  in  which,  after  having  been  covered 
up  to  the  chin  in  mud,  he  made  his  reappearance  among  his  old 
friends  was  to  himself  a  source  of  much  jest  and  amusement. 

The  guarded  privacy  in  whicli,  during  his  first  visit  here,  he 
had  lived,  was  now  no  longer  observed  by  him,  and  scarcely  a 
day  elapsed  without  his  having  company — sometimes  six  or 
seven  persons — to  dine  with  him.  Fearless  as  he  was  by  na- 
ture, his  familiarity,  of  late,  with  danger,  had  rendered  him 
still  more  reckless  of  it :  the  companions  of  his  hours,  at  Cor- 
mick's  and  Moore's,  being  now  in  the  secret  of  their  chiefs 
retreat,  felt  no  less  pride  than  pleasure  in  being  numbered 
among  his  visitors  ;  and,  though  he  himself  was  far  too  tem- 
perate to  be  what  is  called  convivial,  that  excitement  of  spirits 
natural  on  the  eve  of  any  great  enterprise  led  him  to  relish. 

amongst  ws,  but  you  cannot  be  everywhere  you  are  required,  and  the 
misfortune  is,  you  delea^ate  your  authoritv  to  those  whom  vou  think 
are  hke  j'ourself,  but  the\'  are  not  like  you,  we  have  no  such  persons 
amongst  us."  The  delegates  here  assented  to  the  justice  of  these  re- 
marks, declaring  that  the  proposals  for  the  aid  of  the  French  officers 
was  a  reasonable  one,  and  they  were  proceeding  to  remonstrate,  when 
Lord  Edward  impatiently  reminded  them  that  they  had  no  assistance 
io  expect  from  France,  and  that  consequently  the  determination  had 
been  come  to,  to  prepare  the  country  for  an  immediate  rising.— 
Madden' s  United  Irish/nen. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  l95 

no  doubt,  the  society  of  those  who  were  so  soon  to  share  his 
dangers.  To  his  kind,  watchful  hostess,  however,  this  un- 
guarded mode  of  living  was  a  constant  source  of  apprehension 
and  disquiet  ;  nor  did  his  friend  Lawless  fail  earnestly  to  re- 
present to  him  the  great  danger  of  admitting  so  many  visitors, 
— more  especially  a  visitor  so  inconsiderate  as  Neilsou,  who, 
well  known  as  was  his  person,  used  to  ride  out  frequently,  in 
full  daylight,  to  call  upon  him. 

While  matters  were  thus  verging  towards  a  crisis,  another 
fatal  bolt  fell  and  almost  as  unexpectedly  as  the  former,  among 
the  conspirators.  Through  the  means  of  an  officer  of  the  King's 
County  militia,  named  Armstrong,  who,  by  passing  himself  off 
as  a  person  of  republican  principles,  gained  the  confidence  of 
the  two  brothers,  John  and  Henry  Sheares,  the  government 
had  obtained  an  insight  into  the  movements  of  the  conspiracy, 
of  which,  quickened  as  was  now  their  vigilance  by  their  fears, 
they  lost  no  time  in  vigorously  availing  themselves  ;  and,  as 
a  lirst  step,  on  the  11th  of  this  month,  a  proclamation  was 
issued,  offering  a  reward  of  d£1000  for  the  apprehension  of 
Lord  Edward  Fitzsrerald.  How  far  this  measure,  and  the 
ulterior  ones  it  seemed  to  portend,  had  any  share  in  hastening 
the  moment  of  explosion,  does  not  appear  ;  but  it  was  now 
announced  by  the  chiefs  to  their  followers  that  on  the  night  of 
the  23d  inst.  the  general  rising  was  to  take  place. 

The  awful  fiat  being  thus  sent  forth,  it  was  seen  that,  for 
the  purpose  of  concerting  measures  with  his  colleagues,  the 
presence  of  Lord  Edward  himself  would  be  necessary  in  the 
capital,  during  the  week  previous  to  the  great  event  ;  and  he 
was  accordingly,  about  the  13th,  removed  from  "^  "^  to  Dub- 
lin, leaving  his  hostess  under  the  impression  that  he  went  but 
to  attend  some  of  the  ordinary  meetings  of  the  Union.  In 
taking  leave  of  her  he  spoke  with  his  usual  cheerfulness,  say- 
ing that,  as  soon  as  these  meetings  were  over,  he  would  return  ; 
nor,  aware  as  were  all  then  present  of  the  perils  of  his  position, 
was  it  possible  for  them,  while  looking  at  that  bright,  kindly 
countenance,  to  associate  with  it  a  single  boding  of  the  sad 
fate  that  was  now  so  near  him. 

A  night  or  two  after  his  leaving  Mrs.  *  *'s,  it  appears  that 
he  rode,  attended  only  by  Neilson,  to  reconnoitre  the  line  of 
advance  on  the  Kildare  side,  to  Dublin, — the  route  marked 
out  on  one  of  the  papers  found  upon  him  when  arrested, — and 


196  MESIOIRS    OF 

it  was  on  this  occasion  that  he  was,  for  some  time,  stopped 
and  questioned  by  the  patrol  at  Pahnerston.  Being  well  dis- 
guised, however,  and  representing  himself  to  be  a  doctor  on 
his  way  to  a  dying  patient,,  his  companion  and  he  were  suffered 
to  proceed  on  their  way. 

It  was  thought  advisable,  as  a  means  of  baffling  pursuit, 
that  he  should  not  remain  more  than  a  night  or  two  in  any  one 
place,  and,  among  other  retreats  contemplated  for  him,  appli- 
cation had  been  made,  near  a  week  before,  to  his  former  host, 
Murphy,  who  consented  willingly  to  receive  him.  Immediately 
after,  however,  appeared  the  proclamation  offering  a  reward 
for  his  apprehension,  which  so  much  alarmed  Murphy,  who 
was  a  person  not  of  very  strong  mind  or  nerves,  that  he  re- 
pented of  his  offer,  and  would  most  gladly  have  retracted  it, 
had  he  but  known  how  to  communicate  with  the  persons  to 
whom  he  had  pledged  himself 

On  the  17tb,  Ascension  Thursday,  he  had  been  led  to  ex- 
pect his  noble  guest  would  be  with  him  ;  but  owing  most  pro- 
bably to  the  circumstance  I  am  about  to  mention,  his  lordship 
did  not  then  make  his  appearance.  On  the  very  morning  of 
that  day,  the  active  town-major,  Sirr,  had  received  informa- 
tion* that  a  party  of  persons^  supposed  to  be  Lord  Edward 
Fitzgerald's  body-guard,  would  be  on  their  way  from  Thomas- 
street  to  Usher's  Island  at  a  certain  hour  that  night.  Accord- 
ingly, taking  with  him  a  sufficient  number  of  assistants  for  his 
purpose,  and  accompanied  also  by  Messrs.  Ryan  and  Emerson, 
Major  Sirr  proceeded,  at  the  proper  time,  to  the  quarter 
pointed  out,  and  there  being  two  different  ways  (either  Wat- 
ling-street,  or  Dirty-Iaue)  by  which  the  expected  party  might 
come,  divided'  his  force  so  as  to  intercept  them  by  either  road. 

A  similar  plan  having  happened  to  be  adopted  by  Lord 
Edward's  escort,  there  took  place,  in  each  of  these  two  streets, 
a  contlict  between  the  parties  ;  and  Major  Sirr,  who  had 
almost  alone  to  bear  the  brunt  in  his  quarter,  was  near  losing 
his  life.  In  defending  himself  with  a  sword  which  he  had 
snatched  from  one  of  his  assailants,  he  lost  his  footing  and 
fell  ;  and  had  not  those  with  whom  he  was  engaged  been  much 
more  occupied  with  their  noble  charge  than  with  him,  he  could 

*  Dr.  Drennan,  Editor  of  the  Irish  Magazine,  accuses  Walter  Cox 
with  being  the  person  who  acted  as  "  setter  "  to  JNIajor  Sirr  on  this  occa- 
sion. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  19Y 

hardly  have  escaped.  But  their  chief  object  being  Lord 
Edward's  safety,  after  snapping  a  pistol  or  two  at  Sirr,  they 
hurried  away.  On  rejoining-  his  friends  in  the  other  street,  tiie 
town-major  found  that  they  had  succeeded  in  capturing  one  of 
their  opponents,  and  this  prisoner,  who  represented  himself  as 
a  manufacturer  of  mushn  from  Scotland,  and  whose  skihully 
assumed  ignorance  of  Irish  affairs  induced  them,  a  day  or  two 
after,  to  discharge  as  innocent,  proved  to  have  been  no  other 
than  the  famous  M'Cabe,  Lord  Edward's  confidential  agent, 
and  one  of  the  most  active  organizers  in  the  whole  confederacy. 

Of  the  precise  object  or  destination  of  this  party  I  have 
not  been  able  to  make  out  any  thing  certain  ;  but  if,  as  is 
generally  supposed,  Lord  Edward  was  at  the  time  on  his  way 
to  Moira-house,  it  was  for  the  purpose,  no  doubt,  of  once  more 
seeing  Lady  Edward  (to  whom  the  noble-minded  mistress  of 
that  mansion  had,  since  his  concealment,  paid  the  most  com- 
passionate attention)  before  his  final  plunge  into  a  struggle 
the  issue  of  which  must,  even  to  himself,  have  been  so  doubtful. 

On  the  followins:  ni^'ht  he  ^vas  brought  from  Moore's  to  the 
house  of  Mr.  Murphy, — Mrs.  Moore  herself  being  his  con- 
ductress. He  had  been  suffering  lately  from  cold  and  sore 
throat,  and,  as  his  host  thought,  looked  much  altered  in  his 
appearance  since  he  had  last  seen  him.  An  old  maid-servant 
was  the  only  person  in  the  house  besides  themselves. 

Next  morning  as  Mr.  Murphy  was  standing  within  his  gate- 
way, there  came  a  woman  from  Moore's  with  a  bundle  which, 
vrithout  saying  a  word,  she  put  into  his  hands,  and  wiiich,  tak- 
ing for  granted  that  it  was  for  Lord  Edward,  he  carried  up  to 
his  lordship.  It  was  found  to  contain  a  coat,  jacket,  and 
trousers  of  dark  green  edged  with  red,  together  with  a  hand- 
some military  cap,  of  a  conical  form.  At  the  sight  of  this 
uniform,  which,  for  the  first  time,  led  him  to  suspect  that  a 
rising  must  be  at  hand,  the  fears  of  the  already  nervous  host 
were  redoubled  ;  and,  on  being  desired  by  Lord  Edward  to 
put  it  some  where  out  sight,  he  carried  the  bundle  to  a  loft 
over  one  of  his  warehouses,  and  there  hid  it  under  some  goat- 
skins, whose  offensiveness,  he  thought,  would  be  a  security 
against  search. 

About  the  middle  of  the  day  an  occurrence  took  place, 
which,  from  its  appearing  to  have  some  connexion  with  the 
pursuit  after  himself,  excited  a  good  deal  of  apprehension  in 


198  MEMOIRS    OF 

his  lordship's  raincl.  A  sergeant-major,  with  a  party  of  soldiers, 
had  been  seen  to  pass  up  the  street,  and  were,  at  the  moment  when 
Murphy  ran  to  apprize  his  guest  of  it,  halting  before  Moore's 
door.  This  suspicious  circumstance,  indicating,  as  it  seemed, 
some  knowledge  of  his  haunts,  startled  Lord  Edward,  and  he 
expressed  instantly  a  wish  to  be  put  in  some  place  of  secrecy  ; 
on  which  Murphy  took  him  out  on  tlie  top  of  the  house,  and 
laying  him  down  in  one  of  the  valleys  formed  between  the  roofs  of 
his  warehouses,  left  him  there  for  some  hours.  During  the  ex- 
citement produced  in  the  neighbourhood  by  the  appearance  of 
the  soldiers,  Lord  Edward's  officious  friend  Neilson  was,  in  his 
usual  flighty  and  inconsiderate  manner,  walking  up  and  down 
the  street,  saying  occasionally,  as  he  passed-,  to  Murphy,  who 
was  standing  in  bis  gate-way, — "  Is  he  safe  ? " — "  Look  sharp." 

While  this  anxious  scene  was  passing  in  one  quarter,  treach- 
ery— and  it  is  still  unknown  from  what  source,* — was  at  work 
in  another.  It  must  have  been  late  in  the  day  that  informa- 
tion of  his  lordship's  hiding-place  reached  the  government,  as 
Major  Sirr  did  not  receive  his  instructions  on  the  subject  till 
but  a  few  minutes  before  he  proceeded  to  execute  them.  Major 
Swan  and  Mr.  Ryan  (the  latter  of  whom  volunteered  his 
services)  happened  to  be  at  his  house  at  the  moment  ;  and  he 
had  but  time  to  take  a  few  soldiers,  in  plain  clothes  along  with 
him, — purposing  to  send,  on  his  arrival  in  Thomas-street,  for 
the  pickets  of  infantry  and  cavalry  in  that  neighbourhood. 

To  return  to  poor  Lord  Edward  : — as  soon  as  the  alarm 
produced  by  the  soldiers  had  subsided,  he  ventured  to  leave 
his  retreat,  and  resume  his  place  in  the  back  drawing-room, — 
where,  Mr.  Murphy  having  invited  Neilson  to  join  them,  they 
soon  after  sat  down  to  dinner.  The  cloth  had  not  been  many 
minutes  removed,  when  Neilson,  as  if  suddenly  recollecting 
something,  hurried  out  of  the  room  and  left  the  house  ;  shortly 
after  which  Mr.  Murphy,  seeing  that  his  guest  was  not  inclined 

*  Dr.  Madden  is  of  opinion  that  the  betrayer  of  Lord  Edward  Avas 
the  informer  Jobn  Hughes.  "  The  reward  for  the  discovery  of  Lord 
Edward  was  offered  on  the  11th  of  May,  earned  on  the  19th,  and  paid 
on  the  20th  of  the  month  following,  to  F.  H.  The  Christian  name  of 
Hughes  does  not  correspond  with  the  first  inidal.  The  reader  has 
been  furnished  with  sufficient  data  to  enable  him  to  determine  whe- 
ther the  similarity  of  the  capital  letters  J.  and  R  in  the  hand-writing 
in  question,  may  admit  or  not,  of  one  letter  being  mistaken  for  an- 
other."— 3Iadden's  United  Irishmen. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  199 

to  drink  any  wine,  went  down  stairs.  In  a  few  minutes  after, 
however,  returning,  he  found  that  his  lordship  had,  in  the  in- 
terim, gone  up  to  his  bedroom,  and,  on  following  him  thither, 
saw  him  lying,  without  his  coat,  upon  the  bed.  There  had 
now  elapsed  from  the  time  of  Neilson's  departure  not  more 
than  ten  minutes,  and  it  is  asserted  that  he  had,  in  going  out, 
left  the  hall-door  open. 

Mr.  Murphy  had  but  just  begun  to  ask  his  guest  whether  he 
would  like  some  tea,  when,  hearing  a  trampling  on  the  stairs, 
he  turned  round,  and  saw  Major  Swan  enter  the  room.  Scarcely 
had  this  officer  time  to  mention  the  object  of  his  visit,  wlien 
Lord  Edward  jumped  up,  as  Murphy  describes  him,  "like  a 
tiger,"  from  the  bed,  on  seeing  which.  Swan  fired  a  small 
pocket-pistol  at  him,  but  without  effect  ;  and  then,  turning 
round  sliort  upon  Murphy,  from  whom  he  seemed  to  appre- 
hend an  attack,  thrust  the  pistol  violently  in  his  face,  saying 
to  a  soldier,  who  just  then  entered,  "  Take  that  fellow  away." 
Almost  at  the  same  instant,  Lord  Edward  struck  at  Swan 
with  a  dagger,  which  it  now  appeared,  he  had  had  in  the  bed 
with  him  ;  and  immediately  after  Ryan,  armed  only  with  a 
sword-cane,  entered  the  room.* 

In  the  mean  time,  Major  Sirr,  who  had  stopped  below  to 
place  the  pickets  round  the  house,  hearing  the  report  of  Swan's 
pistol,  hurried  up  to  the  landing,  and  from  thence  saw,  within 
the  room.  Lord  Edward  struggUng  between  Swan  and  Ryan, 
the  latter  down  on  the  floor  weltering  in  his  blood,  and  both 
clinging  to  their  powerful  adversary,  who  was  now  dragging 
them  towards  the  door.  Threatened,  as  he  was,  with  a  fate 
similar  to  that  of  his  companions,  Sirr  had  no  alternative  but 
to  fire,  and,  aiming  his  pistol  deliberately,  he  lodged  the  con- 
tents in  Lord  Edward's  right  arm,  near  the  shoulder.  The 
wound  for  a  moment  staggered  him  ;  but,  as  he  again  rallied, 
and  was  pushing  towards  the  door,  Major  Sirr  called  up  the 

*  It  appears,  from  a  letter  written  by  one  of  this  gentleman's  friends, 
on  the  morning  after  the  encounter, — a  copy  of  which  his  son,  Mr.  D- 
F.  Ryan,  has  kindly  furnished  me  with, — tliat,  immediately  on  enter- 
ing the  room,  Mr.  Kj-an  made  a  thrust  of  his  sword  at  Lord  Edward, 
but  with  no  otliei  effect,  from  the  blade  bending  on  his  breast,  than 
that  of  causing  his  lordship  to  fall  on  the  bed;  in  which  position  Mr. 
Ryan  grappled  with  him,  and,  in  the  course  of  their  struggle,  received 
the  desperate  wound  of  which  he  died. 


200  MEilOIRS    OF 

soldiers  ;  and  so  desperate  were  their  captive's  struggles,  that 
they  found  it  necessary  to  lay  their  firelocks  across  him,  before 
he  could  be  disarmed  or  bound  so  as  to  prevent  further  mis- 
chief. 

It  was  during  one  of  these  instinctive  efforts  of  coura2:e 
that  the  opportunity  was,  as  I  understand,  taken  by  a  wretched 
drummer  to  give  him  a  wound  in  the  back  of  the  neck,  which, 
though  slight,  yet,  from  its  position,  contributed  not  a  little  to 
aggravate  the  uneasiness  of  his  last  hours.  There  are  also 
instances  mentioned  of  rudeness,  both  in  languao'e  and  conduct, 
which  he  had  to  suffer  while  in  this  state  from  some  of  the 
minor  tools  of  government,  and  which,  even  of  such  men,  it 
is  painful  and  difficult  to  believe.     But  so  it  is, 

'  Curs  snap  at  lions  in  the  toils,  •whose  looks 
Frighted  them  being  free." 

It  being  understood  that  Doctor  Adreen,  a  surgeon  of  much 
eminence,  was  in  the  neighbourhood,  messengers  were  imme- 
diately despatched  to  fetch  him,  and  his  attention  was  called 
to  the  state  of  the  three  combatants.  The  wounds  of  Major 
Swan,  though  numerous,  were  found  not  to  be  severe  ;  but 
Mr.  Ryan  was  in  a  situation  that  gave  but  little  hope  of  re- 
covery. When,  on  examining  Lord  Edward's  wound,  Adreen 
pronounced  it  not  to  be  dangerous,  his  lordship  calmly  an- 
swered, "  I  m  sorry  for  it." 

From  Thomas-street  he  was  conveyed,  in  a  sedan-chair,  open 
at  the  top,  to  the  Castle,  where  the  papers  found  upon  him, — 
one  of  them  containing  the  line  of  advance  upon  Dublin,  from 
the  county  of  Kildare, — were  produced  and  verified.  On 
hearing  that  he  was  at  the  Castle,  the  lord  lieutenant  sent  his 
private  secretary,  Mr.  Watson,  to  assure  him  that  orders  had 
been  given  for  every  possible  attention  being  shown  to  him, 
consistently  with  the  security  of  his  person  as  a  state  prisoner. 

By  the  gentleman  who  was  the  bearer  of  this  message,  I  have 
been  favoured  with  the  following  particulars, — as  honourable 
to  himself  as  they  cannot  but  be  interesting  to  others, — of  the 
interview  which,  in  consequence,  he  had  with  the  noble 
prisoner  :  — 

"  I  found  Lord  Edward  leaning  back  on  a  couple  of  chairs, 
in  the  office  of  the  secretary  in  the  war  department,  his  arm 
extended,  and  supported  by  the  surgeon,  who  was  dressing  his 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD,  201 

wound.  His  coimtenauce  was  pallid,  bnt  serene  ;  and  when  I 
told  him,  in  a  low  voice,  not  to  l)e  overiieard,  my  commission 
from  the  lord  lieutenant,  and  that  I  was  p:oing  to  bre^k  the 
intelligence  of  what  had  occurred  to  Lady  Edward,  asking 
him,  with  every  assurance  of  my  fidelity  and  secrecy,  whether 
there  was  any  confidential  communication  he  wished  to  be  made 
to  her  ladyship,  or  whether  I  could  undertake  any  other  per- 
sonal act  of  kindness  in  his  service, — he  answered  merely,  but 
collectedly,  '  No,  no, — thank  you, — nothing,  nothing  ;  only 
break  it  to  her  tenderlv.' 

"  When  I  called  at  Ladv  Edward's  house,  this  beino:  in  the 
evening,  and  after  dark,  I  found  that  she  was  absent  at  a  party 
at  Moira  house  :  I  therefore  communicated  to  two  of  her 
female  attendants  the  events  of  the  evening."* 

The  eifect  produced  by  this  event  is  thus  strikingly  described 
by  one  of  the  historians  of  the  rebellion  :f  "The  arrest  of  Lord 
Edward  visibly  occasioned  a  strong  sensation  among  the  mass 
of  the  people  in  Dublin,  as  their  hopes  of  getting  possessiou 
of  the  metropolis,  on  the  approaching  insurrection  which  they 
meditated,  rested  much  on  his  valour  and  skill  as  an  officer. 
Numbers  of  them  were  seen  going  from  one  part  of  the  town 
to  the  other,  with  a  quick  pace  and  a  serious  countenance. 
Others  were  perceived,  in  small  parties,  conversing  with  that 
seriousness  of  look  and  energy  of  gesticulation,  which  strongly 
indicated  the  agitation  of  their  minds.  A  rising  to  effect  a 
rescue  was  expected  that  night  :J  the  yeomen,  therefore,  and 

At  the  time  of  Lord  Edward's  arrest,  his  wife  had  taken  refuge 
with  my  sisters,  and  was  at  that  time  in  my  father's  house,  in  Merrion 
street,  though  without  his  knowledge.  She  was  pursued  there  by  the 
police  in  search  of  papers,  and  some  which  she  had  concealed  in  her 
bed-room  were  discovered  and  seized. — Personal  Recollections  of 
Lord  Cloncnrry. 

f  Musgrave's  Ilistory  of  the  Rebellion. ' 

\  Xeilson  determined,  that  on  the  night  of  the  23d,  he  would  make 
an  effort  to  liberate  the  leaders,  and  hazard  all  hopes  of  success  on  an 
attack  on  Newgate,  where  Lord  Edward  was  confined.  From  his 
long  confinement  in  the  Dublin  prisons,  he  had  become  intimately 
acquainted  with  their  interior  arrangeinent  and  construction,  and  so 
far  was  qualified  to  carry  the  proposed  plan  of  attack  into  execution. 
But  to  the  success  of  that  effort,  it  was  necessary  to  ascertain  the 
height  of  the  walls,  at  that  part  where  they  were  to  be  scaled,  and  to 
obtain  this  knowledge  with  accuracy,  he    boldly,    and,  as  the  result 


202  MEMOIRS    OF 

the  garrison,  which  it  was  to  be  lamented  was  very  thin,  re- 
mained on  their  arms  all  night,  and  were  so  judiciously  dis- 
posed as  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  an  insurrection." 

Of  the  melancholy  close  of  Lord  Edward's  days  I  am  en- 
abled to  lay  before  my  readers  all  the  minutest  details,  tli rough 
the  medium  of  a  correspondence,  which  took  place  immediately 
on  his  apprehension,  between  some  of  his  nearest  relatives  and 
friends, — a  correspondence  as  affecting,  as  it  has  ever  fallen  to 
the  lot  of  a  biographer  to  put  on  record.  It  would  be  difficult, 
indeed,  to  find  a  family  more  affectionately  attaclied  to  each 
other  than  that  of  which  his  lordship  had  been  always  the  most 
beloved  member  ;  and  it  is  only  in  language  direct  from  such 
hearts,  at  the  very  moment  of  suffering,  tliat  dismay  and  sorrow 
such  as  now  fell  upon  them  could  be  at  all  adequately  conveyed. 
Of  one  of  the  writers,  Lady  Louisa  Conolly,  it  is  gratifying  to 
be  able  to  preserve  some  memorial  beyond  that  tradition  of 
her  many  noble  virtues  which  friendship  has  handed  down  to 
us,  and  to  the  truth  of  which  the  amiable  spirit  tliat  breathes 
throughout  her  letters  bears  the  amplest  testimony. 

In  the  accounts  given  in  some  of  these  letters  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  arrest,  there  will  be  found  mistakes  and 
mistatements  into  which  the  writers  were  naturally  led  by  the 
hasty  reports  of  the  transaction  that  reached  them,  but  which 
tlie  reader,  acquainted  as  he  is  already  with  the  true  facts  of 
the  case,  will  be  able  to  detect  and  rectify.  In  the  desperate 
resistance  which  he  made.  Lord  Edward  had  no  other  weapon 
than  a  dagger,  and  the  number  of  wounds  he  is  said  to  have 
inflicted  with  it  on  his  two  adversaries  is  such  as  almost  to  ex- 
ceed belief.  This  dagger  was  given  by  Lord  Clare,  a  day  or 
two  after  the  arrest,  to  Mr.  Brown,  a  gentleman  well  known 
and  still  living  in  Dublin,  who  has,  by  some  accident,  lost  it. 
He  describes  it  to  me,  however,  as  being  about  the  length  of  a 
large  case-knife,  with  a  common  buck-handle, — the  blade, 
which  was  two-edged,  being  of  a  waved  shape,  like  that  of  the 

proved,  most  imprudently  determined  to  reconnoitre  the  prison,  and 
while  he  was  intently  engaged  in  estimating  the  height  of  the  building 
from  the  number  of  tiers  of  mason-work  in  the  wall,  he  was  observed 
by  G'"^gg.  the  jailer,  Avho,  calling  a  file  of  soldiers  to  his  assistance,  im- 
mediately seized  on  Neilson,  and  after  a  desperate  struggle  on  the  part 
of  the  latter,  lodged  him  in  jail. — Maddens  United  Jrishnien. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  203 

Bword  represented  in  the  hands  of  the  angel  in  the  commoa 
prints  prefixed  to  the  hist  book  of  Paradise  Lost, 

The  rebel  uniform  belonging  to  his  lordsliip,  which  was 
found  at  Murphy's,  passed  afterward  into  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Watson  Taylor,  in  whose  possession  it  remained  for  some  time, 
till  the  late  Duke  of  York,  who  had  always  been  much  at- 
tached  to  Lord  Edward,  and  had  even  oifered,  when  made 
commander-in-chief,  to  restore  him  to  his  rank  in  the  army, 
having  expressed  a  wish  to  possess  so  curious  a  relic  of  his  no- 
ble friend,  Mr.  Watson  Taylor  presented  it  to  his  royal  high- 
ness, and  what  has  become  of  it  since  the  duke's  death  I  have 
not  been  able  to  ascertain. 

FROM  LADY  LOUISA  COXOLLY  TO  WILLIAM  OGILVIE,  ESQ.* 

"  Castletown,  May  21st,  1798. 
"  MY  DEAR  MR.  OGILVIE, 

"  I  was  too  ill  yesterday  to  write,  but  as  there  sailed  no 
packet,  I  have  an  opportunity  of  letting  my  letter  go  now 
among  the  first,  with  the  sad  narrative  of  Saturday  night's 
proceedings.  Which  of  poor  Edward's  bad  friends  betrayed 
him,  or  whether,  throu2:h  the  vi2:ilance  of  the  town  magistrates, 
he  was  apprehended  at  nine  o'clock  that  night,  I  know  not, 
but,  at  a  house  in  Thomas-street,  Mr.  Serle,  the  town-major, 
Mr.  Ryan,  (printer  of  Faulkner's  Journal),  and  Mr.  Swan  (a 
magistrate),  got  information  of  him,  and  had  a  small  party  of 
soldiers  to  surround  the  house.  Mr.  Serle  was  settling  the 
party,  and  advised  Ryan  and  Swan  not  to  be  in  haste  ;  but 
they  hastily  ran  up  stairs,  and  forced  open  the  door  where  he 
was  asleep.  He  instantly  fired  a  pistol  at  Mr.  Ryan,  who  we 
have  this  day  hopes  will  recover.  Upon  Mr.  Swan's  approach- 
ing him,  he  stabbed  Mr.  Swan  with  a  dagger,  but  that  wound 
is  not  considered  dangerous. 

"  Mr,  Serle,  upon  hearing  the  resistance,  ran  up  stairs,  and 
thinking  that  Edward  was  going  to  attack  him,  fired  a  pistol 
at  him,  which  wounded  Edward  in  the  shoulder,  but  not  dan- 
gerously. He  was  then  carried  prisoner  to  the  Castle,  where 
Mr.  Stewart  (the  surgeon-general)  was  ordered  to  attend  him. 
He  dressed  his  wound,  and  pronounced  it  not  to  be  dangerous. 
Lord  Camden   had  ordered  an   apartment  for  him,  but  the 

*  Mr.  Ogilvie  was  at  this  time  in  London. 


204  MEMOIRS    OF 

magistrates  claimed  liim,  on  account  of  his  having  wounded 
their  people.  He  was  therefore  carried  to  Xewgate,  and,  after 
the  first  burst  of  feeling  was  over,  I  hear  that  he  was  quite 
composed. 

"  Mr.  Pakenham  has  promised  to  inquire  if  he  wants  any 
comfort  or  convenience  that  can  be  sent  him  in  prison  ;  and  I 
am  going  to  town  this  evening,  meaning  to  see  Mr.  Stewart, 
the  surgeon,  to  know  from  him  what  may  be  w^anted.  I  am 
also  going  for  the  purpose  of  hearing  whether  this  event  makes 
any  alteration  in  the  determinations  respecting  Lady  Edward's 
leaving  the  country.  If  it  is  necessary  that  she  should  still 
go,  I  shall  wish  to  hurry  her  off,  and  shall  in  another  letter 
write  you  more  particulars  about  her.  In  the  mean  time,  I 
have  had  the  satisfaction  of  hearino'  that  she  bore  the  shock 
yesterday  better  than  one  could  expect,  and  she  had  some  sleep 
last  night. 

"  As  soon  as  Edward's  wound  was  dressed,  he  desired  the 
private  secretary  at  the  Castle  (Mr.  Watson,  I  believe,  is  the 
name)  to  write  for  him  to  Lady  Edward,  and  to  tell  her  what 
had  happened.  The  secretary  carried  the  note  himself.  Lady 
Edward  was  at  Moira-house,  and  a  servant  of  Lady  Mount- 
cashell's  came  soon  after,  to  forbid  Lady  Edward's  servants 
saying  anything  to  her  that  night.  Poor  Miss  Napier,  with 
my  Emily,  were  at  the  play  that  night,  with  Lady  Castlereagh 
and  Mrs.  Pakenham,  in  the  next  box  to  the  lord  lieutenant's, 
where  the  news  was  brought  to  him,  and  of  course  the  two 
poor  girls  heard  it  all.  Miss  Napier  was  so  overcome  that 
Lady  Castlereagh  went  out  with  her,  and  Miss  Napier  went 
instantly  to  Moira-house,  knowing  Lady  Edward  to  be  there. 
Lady  Moira  forbade  her  telling  her  that  night,  so  that  Miss 
Napier  made  some  foolish  pretence  to  go  home  with  her,  and 
she  has  never  left  Lady  Edward  since.  Mr.  Pakenham  made 
Louisa  Pakenham  keep  Emily  in  the  box,  as  they  feared  that 
all  running  out  of  the  box  might  have  the  appearance  of  some 
not ;  and  I  believe  it  might  be  better,  but  the  poor  little  soul 
was  wretched,  as  you  may  imagine.  The  next  morning  (being 
yesterday),  Miss  Napier  told  Lady  Edward,  and  she  bore  it 
better  than  she  expected  ;  but  Mr.  Napier,  who  went  to  town, 
brought  us  word  that  her  head  seemed  still  deranged,  and  that 
no  judgment  could  be  formed  about  her.  He  and  Sarah  are 
gone  again  this  morning.     I  wait  for  the  evening,  as  I  wish  to 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  205 

go  a  little  better  prepared  with  advice  than  I  could  hitherto 
have  been. 

"  It  is  my  intention  to  entreat  for  leave  to  see  him  (nobody- 
has  been  permitted  to  go  since  he  was  carried  to  Newgate j, 
but  I  will  vv'ait  to  see  surgeon  Stewart,  and  know  first  the 
state  of  his  health,  and  if  he  would  like  to  see  me.  The  trial, 
it  is  thought,  will  not  come  on  immediately  ;  but  as  reports 
are  the  only  information  I  have  upon  that  head,  I  shall  post- 
pone saying  more  until  I  am  better  informed.  My  astonish- 
ment at  finding  that  Edward  was  in  Dublin  can  only  be 
equalled  by  his  imprudence  in  being  in  it.  I  had  felt  such 
security,  at  being  sure  of  his  having  left  Dublin  Bay,  added 
to  the  belief,  from  the  Duke  of  Portland's  ofiice,  that  he  had 
left  the  English  coast  in  a  boat,  that  I  scarcely  felt  startled 
when  the  proclamation  came  out,  though  I  began  to  wonder 
why  it  took  place  now. 

"  I  received  yours  of  the  15th  yesterday  morning,  with  the 
bad  account  of  the  poor  Dutchess  of  Leinster's  state  of  health. 
It  affected  me,  certainly,  but  under  the  impression  of  Edward's 
misfortune,  I  could  feel  no  other  equal  to  what  that  has  brought 
upon  us.  I  am  very  sorry  that  the  poor  duke  still  deceives 
himself  about  her. 

"  This  last  week  has  been  a  most  painful  one  to  us.  May- 
nooth,  Kilcock,  Leixlip,  and  Celbridge  have  had  part  of  a 
Scotch  regiment  quartered  at  each  place,  living  upon  free 
quarters,  and  every  day  threatening  to  burn  the  towns.  I 
have  spent  days  in  entreaties  and  threats,  to  give  up  the  horrid 
pikes.  Some  houses  burnt  at  Kilcock  yesterday  produced  the 
effect.  Maynooth  held  out  yesterday,  though  some  houses 
were  burnt,  and  some  people  punished.  This  morning  the 
people  of  Leixlip  are  bringing  in  their  arms.  Celbridge  as 
yet  holds  out,  though  five  houses  are  now  burning.  Whether 
obstinacy,  or  that  they  have  them  not,  I  cannot  say,  but  you 
may  imagine  what  Mr.  Conolly  and  1  suffer.  He  goes  about 
entreating  to  the  last, — spent  all  yesterday  out  among  them, 
and  to-day  is  gone  again.  He  goes  from  Maynooth  to  Leixlip 
and  Celbridge,  and  begins  again  and  again  to  go  round  them. 

"  We  have  fortunately  two  most  humane  officers,  that  do 
not  do  more  than  is  absolutely  necessary  from  their  orders. 
At  present  I  feel  most  prodigiously  sunk  with  all  the  surround- 
ing distress,  but  I  am  determined  to  exert  myself,  for  the  little 


206  MEMOIRS    OF 

use  I  may  be  of.     It  would  grieve  you  to  see  Mr.  Conolly'3 
good  heart  so  wounded  as  it  is. 

"  Yours  affectionatelv,  "  L.  C." 

FROM    COLONEL    NAPIRR   TO    WILLIAM    OGILVIE,    ESQ. 

"Dublin,  Maj' 21st. 
"my   dearest    OGILVIE, 

"  I  must  trust  to  the  manly  firmness  I  know  you  possess 
as  the  only  preface  which  can  enable  you  to  support  tlie  heavy 
intelligence  I  am  obliged  to  convey  in  this  melancholy  letter. 
Poor  Lord  Edward,  seduced  and  betrayed,  was  arrested  the 
night  before  last  by  three  men  sent  for  the  purpose,  who  took 
him  after  a  desperate  resistance,  in  which  he  wounded  two  of 
them  with  a  poinard,  and  was  himself  shot  in  the  right  arm, 
and  bruised  and  cut  in  three  places  of  his  left.  He  was  first 
carried  to  the  Castle,  and,  after  his  wounds  had  been  dressed 
removed  to  Lord  Aldborough's  room,  in  Newgate,  on  the  re- 
quisition of  the  magistrates,  as  one  of  his  opponents  appeared 
to  be  mortally  wounded  in  the  groin.  However,  this  day  it 
is  found  the  intestines  are  not  hurt,  and  great  hopes  are  enter- 
tained of  his  recovery. 

"  Lord  Ross  broun'ht  the  dreadful  intelligence  to  Castletown 
yesterday  morning,  and  after  a  miserable  scene,  in  which  I 
feared  their  violent  hysterics  would  have  ended  fatally  with 
both  Lady  Louisa  and  Sarah,  I  set  off  for  Dublin,  but  was 
peremptorily  refused  to  be  allowed  an  interview  with  our  un- 
fortunate prisoner.  I  next  went  to  Geo.  Stewart,  who  dressed 
his  wounds,  and  attends  him  ;  but,  missing  him  I  went  to  the 
poor  suiferer's  wife  ;  who,  kept  up  by  her  spirits,  bore  her  mis- 
fortunes like  a  heroine.  Alas  !  she  does  not  know,  what  I 
dread  to  be  true,  that  government  have  strong  and  even  indu- 
bitable proofs  of  treason.  It  is  in  vain  to  dissemble  :  Geo. 
Ponsonby,  who  is  to  be  Edward's  counsel,  in  conjunction  with 
Curran,  fears  the  event,  at  least  if  ministers  produce  what 
they  assert  they  possess.  In  short,  my  dear  friend,  no  time 
must  be  lost  in  applying  to  the  king,  or  the  catastrophe  is — 
I  dare  not  write  what !  As  no  packet  sailed  yesterday,  I  have 
waited  till  now,  that  I  might  guard  you  against  flying  or  nia- 
licious  reports  ;  for,  among  others,  it  was  said  yesterday,  that 
Ryan,  the  man  wounded  in  the  groin,  was  dead  ;  and  to-day, 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  207 

that  Lord  Edward  had  a  locked  jaw,  both  which  are  utterly 
uu  [bunded. 

"  I  write  this  from  Moira-house.  Opposite,  in  Thomas-street, 
they  are  destroying  tiie  houses  ;  and  I  expect,  on  my  return, 
to  lind  Celbridge  and  Maynooth  in  ashes,  as  that  was  the 
*  order  of  the  day.'  I  enclose  this  to  my  sister,  who  will  di- 
rect Alexander  to  give  it  into  your  own  hand,  as  I  dread  and 
shudder  at  the  thoughts  of  its  effects  on  your  dear  wife.  Good 
God  !  how  my  heart  bleeds  for  her.  I  can't  write  more— my 
breast  is  so  very  bad  ;  and  not  relieved,  you  may  believe,  by 
the  scenes  of  misery  I  am  every  where  witness  to.  I  have, 
however,  the  satisfaction  of  thinking,  that  neitiier  party  can 
accuse  me  of  having  abetted  them,  in  thought,  word,  or  deed  ; 
and  this  is  no  small  consolation  to  an  honest  man.  I  hope, 
poor  dear  intrepid  Lady  Edward  will  go  to  England  (where 
the  privy  council  have  ordered  her),  as  Ponsonby  says  she 
cannot  be  of  any  use  here.  Adieu,  my  dear  friend  ;  for  God's 
sake  exert  your  fortitude,  and  be  prepared  for  the  worst. 
*'  I  cannot  write  more,  but  I  am 

"  Very,  very  sincerely  yours. 

"  Lady  Moira's  kindness,  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  has 
surpassed  that  of  common  mothers. 

"  My  sister,  at  the  king's  feet,  imploring  a  pardon  on  con- 
dition of  exile,  may  do  more  than  all  the  politicians,  lawyers, 
or  exertions  in  the  whole  world  :  let  her  try  it  instantly,  and 
never  quit  him  till  obtained  :  stop  at  no  forms  or  refusals. 
Human  nature  must  give  way. 

"  Tills  is  intended  for  the  Duke  of  Lienster,  and  all  the 
family,  none  of  us  being  able  to  write  more." 

FROil    LADY    LOUISA    CONOLLY   TO    LADY    SARAH    NAPIER. 

"May  22d,  1798. 
"  MY    DEAREST    SAL, 

"  Poor  Lady  Edward  is  to  go :  when  I  brought  her  the 
passport  this  morning,  it  threw  her  into  sad  distress,  for  she 
had  hoped  1  could  prevail  upon  them  to  let  her  live  in  prison 
with  him.  Lord  Castlereagh  told  me,  that  it  had  been  a  de- 
termination, at  the  beginning  of  all  this  particular  business^ 
not  to  admit  the  friends  at  all,  and  that  it  had  not  been  de- 
parted from  in  any  one  instance  ;  and  that,  if  Mrs.  Emmet 


208  M1EM0IRS    OF 

saw  her  husband,  it  was  by  stealth,  and  contrary  to  the  most 
positive  order.  I  tried  for  one  day  before  she  went  ;  but  that^ 
Lady  Edward  says,  she  would  not  have  ventured,  on  account 
of  his  wound,  lest  it  should  have  caused  him  fever.  Lindsay 
brought  word  to-day  that  he  was  better.  Lady  Edward  will 
have  her  choice  of  a  Parkgate  or  Holyhead  packet  on  Thurs- 
day morning,  a  five  o'clock.  I  shall,  therefore,  stay  in  Dublin 
till  that  time,  to  put  her  on  board,  to  pay  her  the  last  little 
friendly  office  in  my  power. 

"  In  the  House  of  Commons,  to-day,  the  discovery  of  the 
conspiracy  was  announced,  which  they  report  to  have  been 
found  out  but  just  in  due  time,  as  this  week  was  to  have  com- 
pleted it.  Two  men  of  the  name  of  Sheares,  have  been  taken 
up  ;  in  the  pocket  of  one  of  them  a  proclamation  was  found, 
intended  for  distribution  after  that  Dublin  should  be  in  their 
possession  ;  and  in  Mr.  Braughal's  pocket,  a  letter,  addressed 
to  him,  saying,  '  Get  off  as  soon  as  you  can  for  ice  are  discov- 
ered.^ I  vouch  for  nothing,  but  tell  you  what  I  have  heard  ; 
and  know  nothing  for  certain,  but  my  own  wretchedness.  God 
bless  you,  dearest  dear  Sal.  "  Ever  yours, 

''  L.  CONOLLY. 

"  Pray  send  Mrs.  Staples  word  of  my  stay  in  town. 

"  I  saw  Mr.  G.  Ponsonby  :  he  advised  her  going.  I  hear 
that  Mr.  Curran  does  the  same. 

"  Dear  good  Miss  Napier,  don't  look  ill.  Surgeon  Stewart 
is  to  write  constantly  to  Lady  Edward  an  account  of  his 
health." 

FROM    THE    DUKE    OF    PORTLAND    TO    WILLIAil    OGILVIE,  ESQ. 

"  Burlington  House, 
"Wednesday,  May  23d,  1798,  11  A.  M. 
"  DEAR    SIR, 

"  It  is  with  infinite  concern  that  I  take  upon  myself  to  ac- 
quaint you  with  the  very  melancholy  circumstances  which  have 
attended  the  apprehension  of  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  when 
Justice  Swan,  attended  by  a  Mr.  Ryan,  entered  the  room  (at 
the  house  of  one  Murphy,  in  the  Liberty,)  where  Lord  Ed- 
ward was  in  bed.  Lord  Edward,  who  was  armed  with  a  case 
of  pistols  and  a  dagger,  stood  in  his  defence,  shot  Mr.  Ryan 
in  the  stomach,   and  wounded  Mr.   Swan  with  the  dagger 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  209 

in  two  places.  Major  Sirr,  on  entering  the  room,  and  ob- 
serving Lord  Edward  with  the  dagger  uplifted  in  his  hands, 
fired  at  him  and  wounded  him  in  the  arm  of  the  hand  that 
held  the  weapon,  upon  which  he  was  secured.  Mr.  Ryan's 
wound  is  considered  to  be  mortal  ;  no  apprehensions  are  en- 
tertained for  Mr.  Swan's  life.  Upon  so  very  melancholy  and 
distressful  a  subject  as  this  must  be,  it  would  as  little  become 
me  as  it  can  be  necessary,  to  assign  reasons  for  this  intrusion  : 
the  motives  will  speak  for  themselves,  and  I  need  make  no 
other  appeal  than  to  your  candour  and  to  your  feelings  for  my 
justification  upon  this  distressful  occasion. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  be, 
"  Dear  sir, 
"  Your  most  obedient  servant, 

"  Portland." 

from  the  duke  of  richmond  to  william  ogiltie,  esq. 

"  Goodwood,  May  24th,  1798. 
"  MY  DEAR  SIR, 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  trouble  you  have  taken, 
at  a  moment  when  you  must  have  so  much  anxiety  on  your 
mind,  to  communicate  to  me  the  very  melancholy  event  of 
Lord  Edward's  being  taken,  and  the  circumstances  attending 
it.     God  grant  that  Mr.  Ryan  may  recover  ! 

"  I  can  easily  conceive  the  oppression  of  my  poor  sister's 
mind  ;  for  although  I  know  that  she  possesses  great  fortitude, 
none  can  stand  under  the  sort  of  misery  with  which  she  may 
be  afflicted.  It  is  in  vain  to  offer  any  assistance  or  comfort 
where  none  can  be  of  any  avail  ;  but  she  may  be  assured  that 
no  one  can  sympathize  more  sincerely  in  her  misfortune  than 
I  do. 

"  Believe  me,  my  dear  sir, 

"  Ever  most  sincerely  yours, 

"  Richmond,  &c. 

"  P.  S.  I  have  sent  your  letter  to  Lord  Bathurst  and  Cap- 
tain Berkeley,  who  are  at  Wood  End. 

"  I  read  a  case  a  few  days  ago  in  the  newspapers,  in  which 
Lord  Kenyon  is  said  to  have  expressed,  very  strongly  his 
opinion  how  much  it  was  the  duty  of  any  officer  executhig  a 
warrant  to  declare  who  he  was,  and  his  authority  ;  otherwise, 


210  MEMOIRS    OF 

what  dreadful  consequences  might  ensue  by  a  resistance  sup- 
posed to  be  justifiable  ! 

"  If  it  should  turn  out  that  the  persons  who  arrested  Lord 
Edward  did  not  declare  their  authority,  this  speech  of  Lord 
Kenyon's  from  the  bench,  of  which  you  may  easily  get  a  cor- 
rect minute,  might  be  useful. 

"  The  letters  of  to-day  were  brought  by  Hyde,  the  messen- 
ger :  if  you  should  wish  to  ask  him  any  questions,  he  will  cer- 
tainly not  return  sooner  than  to-morrow." 

FROM   THE    DUKE    OF    PORTLAND    TO    WILLIAM    OGILVIE,    ESQ. 

"  Tliursdaj-  morning,  2-l:Lh  Ma}-,  1798. 
"dear    SIR, 

"  Give  me  leave  to  assure  you,  that  I  am  much  irratified  by 
ihe  reception  my  unfortunate  intrusion  of  yesterdsiy  met  with 
from  you.  I  wish  I  could  in  anv  deij-ree  relieve  vour  anxiety 
by  the  accounts  I  have  received  to-day  :  they  are  of  tiie  20th, 
and  state  no  new  unfavourable  symptoms  ;  but  I  must  not 
conceal  from  you,  that  they  give  no  better  hopes  of  Mr. 
Ryan's  recovery  than  the  letters  of  the  19th. 

"  I  am,  dear  sir, 
"  Your  very  faithful  and  obedient  servant, 

"  Portland." 

from  the  duke  of  portland  to  lord  henry  fitzgerald. 

"  Whitehall,  Friday,  2oth  May,  1798. 
"  MY  LORD, 

"  I  have  the  honour  of  your  lordship's  letter,  in  which  you 
desire  me  to  give  you  an  order  to  be  admitted  to  Lord  Ed- 
ward Fitzgerald,  whom  you  are  going  over  to  Ireland  for  the 
purpose  of  visiting.  I  am  therefore  to  inform  your  lordship, 
that  as  Lord  Edward  is  not  under  confinement  in  consecjuence 
of  a  w^arrant  issued  by  me,  I  have  not  the  power  of  comply- 
ing with  your  request, 

*'  I  have  the  honour  to  be, 
"  Mv  lord, 
"  Your  lordship's  most  obedient  and 
humble  servant 

"  Portland." 


LORD  EDWARD  FITZGERALD.  211 

FROil   THE    DUKE    OF    PORTLAND    TO    WILLIAM    OGILVIE,  ESQ. 

"Whitehall.  Friday,  25th  May,  1798, 
"  Half  pas^t  4,  P.  M. 

"dear  sir, 
"  I  have  the  pleasure  of  acquainting  you,  that  since  I  left 
St.  James's,  I  have  been  assured  by  a  person  whose  accuracy 
may  be  depended  upoir,  that  he  has  seen  private  letters,  hut 
of  /tigk  authority^  of  the  21st,  from  Dublin,  which  state,  that 
though  Mr.  Ryan's  wound  is  a  very  dangerous  one,  it  is  not 
considered  to  be  necessarily  mortal. 

*'  Very  sincerely  yours, 

"  Portland." 

from  the  same  to  the  same. 

"Saturday  morning,  26th  May,  lv98. 
"  DEAR  SIR, 

"  By  a  letter,  dated  the  22d,  I  am  informed  that  Lord  Ed- 
ward remains  in  the  same  state  :  that  though  the  ball  is  not 
yet  extracted,  the  surgeon  who  attends  him  does  not  think  the 
wound  dangerous  ;  and  that  great  hopes  are  entertained  of 
Mr.  Ryan's  recovery. 

"I  am,  sir, 
"  Your  faithful,  humble  servant, 

"  Portland." 

FROM    lady    LOUISA    CONOLLY    TO    WILLIAM    OGILVIE,  ESQ. 

"  Castletown,  June  1st,  1*798. 
"  MY  DEAR  MR.  OGILVIE, 

"  I  have  this  instant  received  vour  two  letters  of  the  26th 
and  28th  of  May,  and  have  written  to  Lord  Castlereagh,  to 
entreat  for  the  order  of  silence  in  the  papers.  I  trust  it  will 
be  complied  with,  because  it  cannot  impede  the  course  of  jus- 
tice ;  and,  if  I  may  judge  by  dear  Lord  Castlereagh's  dis- 
tress about  all  this  business,  I  fancy  government  mean  to 
soften  the  distress  as  much  as  possible,  and  of  course  will  ac- 
cede to  a  thing  that  canuot  counteract  justice, 

"  I  am  so  entirely  of  your  opinion  about  dear  Edward,  that 
his  heart  could  never  be  brought  to  the  guilt  imputed  to  him, 


212  MEMOIRS   OF 

that  I  begin  to  rest  my  afflicted  soul  in  hope,  and  do  not  yet 
give  it  up  ;  thougli  it  was  a  sad  blow  to  me,  yesterday,  to  hear 
of  Ryan's  death.  It  is  said  he  died  of  a  fever  ;  but  when 
once  all  the  circumstances  of  that  affray  come  to  be  known,  I 
do  verily  believe,  that  it  can  only  be  brought  in  manslaughter, 
in  his  own  defence.  However,  in  the  confused  state  that  all 
things  are  in,  and  the  mystery  that  involves  the  truth,  every 
new  thing  creates  doubt  and  alarm.  I  have  also  written  to 
Lord  Castlereagh,  to  know  the  mode  of  proceeding  now ;  for, 
upon  the  idea  of  Ryan's  recovery  he  had  told  me,  that  trial 
was  out  of  the  queston. 

"  Louisa  Pakenham,  who  sees  Dr.  Lindsay  every  day,  sends 
me  constant  accounts  of  dear  Edward,  who  suffers  less  ;  and 
the  accounts  of  yesterday  are  better  than  I  have  had  yet,  as 
his  appetite  and  sleep  were  better.  But  Lindsay  cannot  pro- 
nounce him  out  of  danger  until  the  balls  are  extracted,  which 
is  not  yet  the  case,  though  the  discharge  one  day  was  so  great 
as  to  make  him  expect  it.  The  warm  weather  has  been 
against  him. 

**  My  two  letters  to  poor  Lady  Edward,  directed  to  you, 
contained  all  tlie  accounts  concerning  him,  which  made  it  un- 
necessary to  write  to  you.  I  long  to  hear  of  her  arrival  in 
London,  and  whether  she  will  have  permission  to  remain  there. 
I  hope  the  Duke  of  Portland  will  let  her  stay.  I  must,  for 
ever  and  ever,  repeat  my  firm  belief  of  her  innocence,  as  far 
as  acts  of  treason.  That  she  should  know  dear  Edward's 
opinions,  and  endeavour  to  secret  him  when  in  danger  of  being 
taken,  I  easily  believe  ;  and  where  is  the  wife  that  would  not 
do  so  ?  As  Mr.  Conolly  justly  says,  no  good  man  can  ever 
impute  that  as  guilt  in  her.  However,  I  believe  that  under 
the  illiberal  prejudice  that  has  been  against  her,  as  a  French- 
woman, ever  since  she  came  to  Ireland,  and  which  has  much 
increased  upon  this  occasion,  I  believe  it  was  safer  to  send  her 
to  England.  God  bless  her,  poor  soul !  She  is  to  be  pitied 
more  than  can  be  expressed  ;  and  I  never  knew  how  much  I 
loved  her,  till  she  became  so  unfortunate. 

"  I  wrote  word  in  my  last  that  Edward  had  made  his  will. 
Lieutenant  Stone,  of  the  Derry  militia,  has  been  appointed  to 
stay  with  him  :  he  is  a  good  man,  and  I  hear  that  Edward  is 
pleased  with  him,  and  got  him  to  write  his  will,  which  Stew- 
art and  Lindsay  signed.     I  hear  that  dear  Henry  is  just  land- 


LORD   EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  213 

ed  :  I  am  very  glad  of  it.  I  felt  sure  he  would  come,  but  I 
thouglit  you  would  stay  with  my  poor  sister.  Oh,  good  God, 
what  is  to  become  of  her  ?  I  hardly  dared  read  your  letters 
this  morning.  Her  wish  to  come  over  I  also  expected  ;  and 
it  is  so  natural,  that  I  think  it  must  be  the  best  for  her,  and 
yet  I  dare  not  advise.  The  trial,  I  hear,  is  to  be  the  20th  of 
next  month.  I  shall  beg  of  Lord  Castlereagh,  when  he  sends 
this  letter,  to  tell  you  as  many  particulars  as  he  can  upon  that 
subject.  And  now,  my  dear  Mr.  Ogilvie,  that  I  have  said  all 
I  know  about  him,  I  must  inform  you  of  the  dreadful  state  of 
this  country. 

"  The  fikes  prove  the  intended  mischief  to  anybody's  under- 
standing, without  being  in  the  secrets  of  either  government  or 
the  United  men,  and  the  rebellion  is  actually  begun.  The 
north,  south,  and  west  are  perfectly  quiet,  and  we  have  every 
reason  to  believe  the  militia  are  true  to  the  existing  govern- 
ment ;  so  that  Leinster  is  the  province  devoted  to  scenes  of 
bloodshed  and  misery.  As  yet,  there  does  not  appear  to  be 
any  leader  that  can  be  dangerous,  and  their  depending  on 
numbers  (which  they  endeavour  to  collect  by  force,  as  they 
pass  through  the  country),  shows  great  want  of  skill  ;  for  the 
numbers  must  embarrass  instead  of  assisting,  and  the  conse- 
quence has  been  the  loss  of  hundreds  of  those  poor  creatures, 
who  confess  they  do  not  know  what  they  are  going  to  fight 
for. 

^  SfC  «K  'T^  'K  ^  "r* 

"  There  have  been  several  skirmishes  in  this  neighbourhood  : 
two  hundred  of  them  forced  through  our  gates,  and  passed 
across  our  front  lawn,  at  three  o'clock  on  Saturday  morning 
last,  the  26th,  when  I  saw  them  ; — but  they  went  through 
quietly.  However,  it  is  thought  prudent  to  put  our  house  in 
a  state  of  defence  ;  we  are  about  it  now,  and  we  shall  remain 
in  it.  If  I  had  not  for  ever  experienced  the  goodness  of  God 
upon  trying  occasions,  I  should  be  at  a  loss  to  account  for  my 
total  want  of  feeling,  as  to  personal  danger  ;  but,  knowing 
His  mercy,  I  feel  at  this  moment  a  safer  natural  strength,  that 
can  only  be  sent  me  from  Him. 

"  My  heart  is  almost  borne  down  with  what  I  feel  about 
dear  Edward  and  the  familv.     His  mother  and  wife  are  two 

\  The  passages  omitted  contain  some  local  details  respecting  the 
rebellion,  which  would  not  now  be  read  with  any  interest 


214  MEMOIRS    OF 

sores  that  I  can  find  no  balm  for  ;  and  I  sometimes  am  almost 
sinking  under  it,  but  I  do  not  let  it  get  so  much  tiie  better  of 
me,  as  not  to  think  of  ever}''  thing  that  can  serve  him  ;  but 
alas  !  how  little  is  in  my  power,  being  in  no  secrets  whatever  ! 
•  "  But  to  return  to  the  rebels  :  they  have  a, camp  at  Black- 
more  Hill,  near  Rusborough  ;  are  in  possession  of  Lord  Mil- 
town's  house,  another  camp  at  Taragh,  and  another  at  Staple- 
town,  near  the  Bog  of  Allen.  At  Dunboyne,  the  first  breaking 
out  appeared  ;  and  the  town  is  burned  down  all  to  a  few 
houses.  Mr.  Couolly  tells  me,  that  the  destruction  in  the 
county  from  Sallins  to  KilcuUen  bridge  made  him  sick,  and 
that  many  years  cannot  restore  the  mischief.  We  are  happy 
in  having  been  able  to  preserve  Celbridge,  and  the  poor  people, 
I  trust,  will  find  that  ice  are  their  best  friends  at  last.  You 
may  be  sure  that  v/e  are  protecting  them  to  the  best  of  our 
power.  God  bless  you.  I  will  endeavour  to  keep  a  journal 
of  what  passes  here  ;  I  shall  pretend  to  no  more,  for  I  can 
know  but  little  of  what  passes  in  Dublin. 

"  Yours  affectionately, 

*'L.  COXOLLY." 

The  mutual  attachment  by  which  the  whole  Leinster  family 
were  so  remarkably  bound,  together  was  even  more  warm  be- 
tween Lord  Edward  and  Lord  Henry  than  betv^een  any  of  its 
other  members.  "  Dear  Harry  ! — he  is  perfect,"*  was  the 
enthusiastic  feeling  which  Lord  Edward  no  less  sincerely  enter- 
tained than  he  tiius  strongly  expressed,  and  which  was  an- 
swered with  a  corresponding  warmth  on  the  part  of  his  bro- 
ther. When  millions,  therefore,  were  mourning  the  fate  of 
the  gallant  Edward,  what  must  have  been  the  sorrow  of  one 
so  near  and  so  devoted  to  him  ?  Soon  after  the  dreadful 
news  reached  him.  Lord  Henry  hurried  over  to  Dublin,  re- 
solved to  share  the  sufi'erer's  prison  and  be  his  attendant  and 
nurse.  But,  by  a  sternness  of  policy  which  it  seems  impossible 
to  justify,  even  the  privilege  of  a  single  interview  with  his 
brother  was  denied  to  him  ;  and  he  was  left,  day  after  day,  in 
a  state  of  anguish  only  to  be  conceived  by  those  who  knew 
the  strength  of  his  affections,  to  implore  this  favour  of  the  lord 
lieutenant  and  his  advisers  in  vain.  The  following  is  one  of 
the  answers  which  he  received  to  his  applications  : — 

*  See  a  letter  of  Lord  Edward's,  p.  8S. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  215 

FROil  THE  EARL  OF  CLARE  TO  LORD  HENRY   FITZGERALD. 

"  Ely  Place,  Sunday,  3  o'clock. 
"  MY  DEAR  LORD, 

"  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you,  that  it  will  be  impossible,  for  the 
present,  to  comply  with  your  wishes  ;  and  ii"  I  could  explain 
to  you  the  grounds  of  this  restriction,  even  you  would  hardly 
be  induced  to  condemn  it  as  unnecessarily  harsh. 

"  Always  very  truly  yours, 

"  My  Dear  lord, 

"  Clare,  C." 

This  resolution,  so  harshly  persevered  in,  not  to  suffer  any 
of  Lord  Edward's  own  friends  to  see  him,  is  rendered  still 
worse  by  the  fact  that,  in  some  instances,  the  government 
relaxed  this  rule  of  exclusion  ;  and  I  have  been  told  by  Mr. 
Brown, — a  gentleman  already  mentioned,  as  having  received 
from  Lord  Clare  the  present  of  Lord  Edward's  dagger, — that, 
through  the  favour  of  the  same  nobleman,  he  was  himself,  a 
day  or  two  after  the  arrest,  admitted  to  the  noble  prisoner. 
This  gentleman's  father  was,  it  seems,  the  landlord  of  the 
house  in  which  the  fatal  event  occurred,  and  having  a  desire  to 
speak  with  Murphy,  on  the  subject  of  the  lease,  he  procured 
an  order  of  admission  from  Lord  Clare,  to  which  was  added 
also  a  permission  to  see  Lord  Edward.  Having  first  visited 
the  unfortunate  Murphy,  he  proceeded  to  Lord  Edward's 
room,  where  he  found  his  right  of  entrance  contested  by  two 
ruffianly-looking  members  of  Beresford's  corps  of  yeomanry, 
who  were  there  standing,  with  their  swords  drawn,  beside  the 
bed  of  the  sufferer.  On  his  showing  the  order,  however,  from 
Lord  Clare,  he  was  admitted  :  and  having  mentioned,  in  the 
few  minutes'  conversation^  he  had  with  Lord  Edward,  that  he 
had  just  been  in  Murphy's  room,  his  lordship,  with  his  usual 
kindness  of  feeling,  recollecting  the  blow  he  had  seen  Swan 
give  to  his  host  with  the  pistol,  said,  in  a  faint  voice,  '*  And 
how  is  poor  Murphy's  face  ?'' 

Even  for  the  purpose  of  drawing  up  his  will,  which  took 
place  on  the  2Tth  of  May,  no  person  at  all  conected  with  his 
own  family  was  allowed  to  have  access  to  him  ;  and  Mr.  John 
Leeson,  who  executed  the  instrument,  sat  in  a  carriage,  at  the 
door  of  the  prison,  while  Mr.  Stewart,  the  government  sur- 


216  MEMOIRS    OF 

geon,  communicated  between  him  and  the  prisoner  during  the 
transaction.  The  following  is  the  sketch  of  the  will  indited 
under  such  circumstances  : — 

"  I,  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  do  make  this  as  my  last  Avill 
and  testament,  hereby  revoking  all  others  :  that  is  to  say,  I 
leave  all  estates  of  whatever  sort  I  may  die  possessed  of  to 
my  wife,  Lady  Pamela  Fitzgerald,  as  a  mark  of  my  esteem, 
love,  and  contidence  in  her,  for  and  during  her  natural  life,  and 
on  her  death  to  descend,  share  and  share  alike,  to  my  children 
or  the  survivors  of  them  ;  she  maintaining  and  educating  the 
children  according  to  her  discretion  ;  and  I  constitute  her  ex- 
ecutrix of  this  my  last  will  and  testament.  Signed,  sealed, 
and  delivered  May  the  26,  1798. 

"  In  presence  of -'"^ 

During  this  painfal  interval,  the  anxiety  of  Lord  Edward's 
friends  in  England  was,  as  the  following  letters  will  show,  no 
less  intense  and  active.  The  letter  from  the  late  king  will  be 
found  to  afford  an  amiable  instance  of  that  sort  of  i>'ood-na- 
ture  which  formed  so  atoning  an  ingredient  in  his  character. 
While,  with  the  world  in  general,  it  seems  to  be  a  rule  to  em- 
ploy towards  living  kings  the  language  only  of  praise,  reserv- 
ing all  the  license  of  censure  to  be  let  loose  upon  them  when 
dead,  it  is  some  pleasure  to  reverse  this  safe,  but  rather  ignoble 
policy,  and,  after  having  shocked  all  the  loyal  and  courtly  by 
speaking  with  more  truth  than  prudence  of  his  late  majesty 
when  living,  to  render  justice  now  to  the  few  amiable  qualities 
which  he  possessed,  at  a  time  when  censure  alone  is  heard 
over  his  grave  from  others.  Seldom,  indeed,  were  the  kindlier 
feelings  of  George  the  Fourth  more  advantageously  exhibited 
than  on  the  subject  of  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald, — not  only  at 
the  time  of  which  we  are  speaking,  when,  on  his  first  inter- 
view with  the  afflicted  mother  of  his  noble  friend,  he  is  said 
to  have  wept  with  all  the  tenderness  of  a  woman  in  speaking 
of  him,  but  at  a  much  later  period,  when  it  was  in  his  power, 
as  monarch,  to  perform  an  act  of  humane  justice  towards 
Lord  Edward's  oifspring,  which,  both  as  monarch  and  man, 
reflects  the  highest  honour  upon  him. 

*  The  signatures  to  the  iastrunient  itself  were  "  Alex.  Lindsay,  Geo. 
Stewart,  and  Sara.  Stone." 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  21*1 

FROM   THE    DUKE    OF    RICHMOND   TO    LORD    HENRY    FITZGERALD. 

"Whitehall,  June  loth,  1798. 
"  MY    DEAR    HENRY, 

"  Your  poor  wife  has  been  with  me,  much  alarmed,  this 
morning,  at  the  idea  that  your  generous  but,  I  must  say,  im- 
prudent offer  of  sharing  your  brother's  prison  would  be  allowed 
of.  She  very  justly  fears  that  it  would  materially  hurt  your 
health,  and  expose  you  to  many  dangers  ;  but  we  trust  more 
to  other  reasons  than  those  which  are  personal  to  yourself,  to 
hope  you  will  abandon  that  plan, — and  those  are  what  you 
yourself  state,  namely,  that  some  friends  think  you  could  be 
much  more  useful  out  than  in  prison.  In  it  you  would  do  no 
other  good  than  afford  a  comfort  to  his  mind,  which,  thank  God, 
has  fortitude  enough  to  support  itself  under  all  its  present 
pressures  ;  but,  out,  you  may  be  of  essential  service  to  him,  by 
a  calm  and  prudent  behaviour,  which  will  make  you  listened  to 
when  you  represent  how  impossible  it  is  for  him,  under  the 
bodily  pains  he  suffers,  and  the  debility  they  must  leave  on  his 
mind,  to  do  himself  justice  on  his  trial  ; — that  the  very  ends 
of  justice  would  be  defeated,  by  arraigning  a  man,  who,  from 
illness,  is  not  capable  of  defending  himself ;  as  the  object  of 
iustice,  such  as  it  is  the  glory  of  our  constitution  to  distribute, 
is  to  give  a  prisoner  every  fair  means  of  defence  ; — that  inde- 
pendently of  his  bodily  and  mental  complaints,  the  present 
state  of  Ireland,  in  which  men  of  all  descriptions  must  have 
their  minds  much  agitated,  and  their  passions  stirred  with  just 
resentment  against  the  attacks  on  the  constitution,  affords  no 
room  to  hope  for  that  calm,  dispassionate,  and  fair  investiga- 
tion of  truth  which  is  so  necessary  to  make  justice  loved  and 
respected  ;  and  that  therefore  a  delay  of  his  trial  seems  neces- 
sary to  give  him  fair  play,  and  to  convince  the  world,  that,  if 
he  is  found  guilty,  he  really  is  so  ;  for,  tried  under  all  the  pre- 
sent circumstances  of  his  illness,  and  the  temper  of  the  times, 
it  will  never  be  believed  that  he  was  fairly  convicted,  if  such 
should  be  the  issue  of  a  trial  now  carried  on. 

"  But  there  is  another  point  of  view  in  which  it  appears  to 
me  that  it  will  be  impossible  to  try  him  now,  and  that  is  the 
existence  of  martial  law  at  this  moment  in  DuVjlin.  While 
that  subsists,  all  other  law  must  be  silent,  and  we  are  told 
that,  in  consequence  of  it,  the  judges  have  sluit  up  the  courts, 


218  MEMOIRS    OF 

and  will  not  try  the  common  suits.  With  how  much  more 
reason  must  it  then  be  objected,  to  try  a  prisoner  for  his  life 
for  crimes  alledged  on  the  very  subject  that  has  caused  the  ex- 
istence of  martial  law  ;  and,  while  it  exists,  how  can  any  jury- 
man, or  any  witness,  or  indeed  the  judges  themselves,  feel  that 
they  are  safe,  when  they  may  be  taken  out  of  court,  or  seized 
the  moment  they  quit  it,  and  be  flogged  or  hanged  at  the  will 
of  the  military  ?  I  am  not  saying  any  thing  against  these 
measures  :  they  may  have  been  deemed  necessary  ;  nor  do  I  sup- 
pose that  government  would,  by  their  power,  influence  a  judge, 
juror,  or  witness  ;  but  the  fear  that  underlings  may,  will  pro- 
duce the  same  efi'ect,  and  make  men  afraid  to  speak  truth  that 
may  not  be  acceptable,  lest  they  should  be  considered  and 
treated  as  marked  men,  and  justice  will  of  course  not  be  free. 

"  No  mischief  can  arise  from  a  delay.  Your  brother  can- 
not escape  ;  and  whatever  may  be  his  fate,  government  itself 
will  gain  infinitely  more  credit  by  postponing  his  trial  till  the 
times  can  afford  a  fair  one,  than  by  hurrying  it  on,  as  if  they 
thought  they  could  not  convict  him  but  through  passion  and 
prejudice. 

"  I  have  been  with  Mr.  Pitt,  and  stated  the  substance  of 
these  arguments  to  him,  and,  with  his  approbation,  have  stated 
them  to  the  lord  lieutenant,  in  whose  justice  and  moderation 
I  have  too  much  confidence  not  to  believe  but  that  they  will 
have  weight.  Don't  show  this  letter,  so  as  to  make  it  a  topic 
of  conversation,  which  might  do  more  harm  than  good  :  but  I 
have  no  objection  to  your  making  use  of  it  where  you  think 
it  can  be  of  any  real  use. 

"  Good  God  !  how  different  will  the  proceedings  in  Ireland 
be  from  the  humane  laws  of  this  country  in  criminal  cases, 
which  here  in  times  of  profound  peace,  remove  even  the  ap- 
pearance of  all  military  from  the  town  where  the  assizes  are 
held,  lest  there  being  there  should  be  supposed  to  cause  the 
smallest  influence, — how  different  from  a  trial  in  a  court,  at 
the  doors  of  which  any  man  may  be  instantaneously  hanged 
by  the  military,  without  trial !  But  I  convince  myself  the 
tiling  is  impossible,  and  that  a  reasonable  delay,  and  certainly 
till  martial  law  ceases,  will  be  allowed. 

"  Adieu,  my  dear  Henry  ;  you  will  hear  from  others  that 
your  mother  sets  off  to-morrow  for  Ireland.     Her  fortitude 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  219 

adds  a  respect  and  dignity  to  her  sufferings  that  I  think  no 
heart  can  resist. 

"  Adieu  !  Heaven  ever  bless  and  protect  you. 

"  I  am,  ever, 
"  Your  most  affectionate  uncle, 

"Richmond,  &c." 


FROM   HIS    ROYAL   HIGHNESS    GEORGE,    PRINCE    OF    WALES,    TO 

WILLIAM     OGILVIE,    ESQ. 

"  Carlton-House,  June  6,  1798. 
Three-quarters  past  5,  P.  M. 
"  MY   DEAR    SIR, 

*'  I  feel  SO  truly  for  the  dutchess  and  the  unfortunate  Ed- 
ward, that  I  am  sure  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  I  would 
not  attempt  to  mitigate  the  pangs  ^\•hich  I  am  afraid  but  too 
much  distress  her  grace  at  the  present  dreadful  crisis.  I  would, 
were  I  in  the  habit  of  so  doing,  most  undoubtedly  write  to  Lord 
Clare  ;  though,  even  were  that  the  case,  I  should  hesitate  as 
to  the  propriety  of  so  doing,  thinking  such  an  application  to  t/ie 
chancellor  might  be  subject  to  misconstruction,  and  consequent- 
ly detrimental  to  Lord  Edward's  interests.  But  I  have  no 
hesitation  in  allowing  you  to  state  to  his  lordship  how  much 
pleased  I  shall  be,  and  how  much  I  am  sensible  it  will  concili- 
ate to  him  the  affections  of  every  humane  and  delicate  mind, 
if  every  opportunity  is  given  to  poor  Lord  Edward  to  obtain 
an  impartial  trial,  by  delaying  it  till  his  state  of  health  shall 
be  so  recruited  as  to  enable  him  to  go  through  the  awful  scene 
with  fortitude  ;*  and  until  the  minds  of  men  have  recovered 
their  usual  tone,  so  absolutely  necessary  for  the  firm  adminis- 
tration of  justice. 

"  This,  my  dear  sir,  I  have  no  scruple  to  admit  of  your 
stating  in  confidence,  and  with  my  best  compliments,  to  the 
lord  chancellor.  My  long  and  sincere  regard  for  both  the 
Dutchess  and  Duke  of  Leinster  would  have  naturally  made 
me  wish  to  exert  myself  still  more,  were  I  not  afraid  by  sucn 
exertion  I  might  do  more  harm  than  good. 

"  Excuse  this  scrawl,  which  I  pen  iu  the  utmost  hurry,  fear- 

*  It  will  be  seen  by  a  subsequent  letter  that  the  Duke  of  York 
exerted  himself  with  such  zeal  on  this  point,  that  he  succeeded  in 
obtaining  the  royal  consent  to  a  delaj'  of  the  trial. 


220  MEMOIRS   OF 

ing  that  you  may  have  left  London  before  this  reaches 
Harley-street.  I  am,  dear  sir,  with  many  compUments  to  the 
dutchess, 

"  Yery  sincerely  yours, 

"  George  P. 
"WilHam  Ogilvie,  Esq." 

FROM    THE    RIGHT    HON.    CHARLES    FOX    TO    LORD    HENRY 

FITZGERALD. 


"  DEAR    LORD    HENRY, 


"  St.  Anne's-hill,  June  1. 


"  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  so  bad  an  account  of  poor  dear 
Edward's  wounds,  which  give  me  much  more  apprehension 
than  his  trial,  if  he  is  to  have  a  fair  one.  I  understand  from 
Lady  Henry  that  you  wish  his  friends  to  go  to  Du1)lin.  I  am 
sure  you  will  not  suspect  me  of  a  wish  to  save  myself  on  such 
an  occasion,  and  therefore  I  have  no  difficulty  in  saying  that 
I  think,  and  that  upon  much  reflection,  that  my  going  is  far 
more  likely  to  be  hurtful  than  serviceable  to  him  ;  but  if  you 
and  Mr.  Ponsonby,  his  counsel,  think  otherwise,  I  will  set  out 
whenever  you  think  it  necessary  111  as  I  think  of  the  Irish 
government,  I  cannot  help  hoping  that  the  trials  will  be  put 
off  for  some  time  at  least,  from  a  consideration  of  their  own 
reputation.  At  any  rate,  the  time  between  the  arraignment 
and  the  trial  will,  I  suppose,  be  sufficient  to  send  for  such  of 
us  as  you  wish. 

"  If  vou  see  mv  dear,  dear  Edward,  I  need  not  desire  you 
to  tell  him  that  I  love  him  with  the  warmest  affection.  When 
I  hear  of  the  fortitude  with  which  he  has  borne  his  sufferings, 
I  hear  no  more  than  what  I  expected  from  him,  though  from 
him  only  could  I  have  looked  for  so  much.  God  bless  you, 
my  dear  cousin  ! 

"  Yours  affectionatelv, 

"C.  J.' Fox." 

Except  as  some  comfort  to  the  wounded  hearts  of  his  sur- 
vivors, this  sympathy  was  now  unaviling.  A  day  or  two  be- 
fore these  letters,  so  creditable  to  the  feelings  that  dictated 
them,  were  written,  the  gallant  spirit  of  him  who  was  the  ob- 
ject, of  all  this  tenderness  had  been  released  from  its  pains. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  221 

Through  the  following  memorandums,  which  I  find  in  Lord 
Henry's  handwriting,  may  be  traced  more  touehingly  than  in 
the  most  elaborate  narrative  the  last  stages  of  his  suffering. 

"  Has  he  got  fruit  ? — does  he  want  linen  ? 

"  How  will  the  death  of  R.  (Ryan)  affect  him  ? 

**  What  informers  are  supposed  to  be  against  him  ? 

"  Upon  his  pain  subsiding,  the  hearing  of  Ryan's  death 
(which  he  must  have  heard)  caused  a  dreadful  turn  in  his 
mind. 

"  Affected  strongly  on  the  2d  of  June — began  to  be  ill 
about  3. — Clinch  executed  before  the  prison.  He  must  have 
known  of  it — asked  what  the  noise  was. 

*'  2d  of  June,  in  the  evening,  was  in  the  greatest  danger. 

"  Mr.  Stone,  the  officer  that  attended  him,  removed  the  2d 
of  June — could  not  learn  who  was  next  put  about  him. 

"  2d  of  June,  in  the  evening,  a  keeper  from  a  madhouse 
put  with  him — but  finding  him  better  in  the  night,  left  him. 

"  June  3d,  exhausted,  but  composed. 

"  3d  of  June,  wrote  chancellor  a  pressing  letter  to  see  E." 

The  answer  of  the  chancellor  to  the  application  here  men- 
tioned was  as  follows  : — 

FROM    THE    EARL    OF    CLARE    TO    LORD    HENRY"    FITZGERALD. 

"Ely-place,  J^ine  3d,  1798. 
"  MY    DEAR    LORD, 

"  Be  assured  that  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  procure  admis- 
sion for  you  to  Lord  Edward.  You  will  readily  believe  that 
Lord  Camden's  situation  is  critical  iu  the  extreme.  The  ex- 
tent and  enormity  of  the  treason  which  has  occasioned  so 
many  arrests  make  it  essentially  necessary,  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  state,  that  access  should  be  denied  to  the  friends 
of  all  the  persons  now  in  confinement  for  treason.  Judge, 
then,  my  dear  lord,  the  situation  in  which  Lord  Camden  will 
be  placed,  if  this  rule  is  dispensed  with  in  one  instance.  ^Nlr. 
Stewart  has  just  now  left  me,  and  from  his  account  of  Lord 
Edward,  he  is  in  a  situation  which  threatens  his  life.  Per- 
haps, if  he  should  get  into  such  a  state  as  will  justify  it,  your 
request  may  be  complied  with  ;  and,  believe  me,  it  will  give 


222  MEMOIRS    OF 

me  singular  satisfaction  if  you  can  be  gratified.     You  may 
rest  assured  that  his  wound  is  as  well  attended  to  as  it  can  be. 

"  Yours  always,  truly,  my  dear  lord, 

"  Clare." 

On  the  same  day  the  following  letter  from  a  fellow-prisoner 
of  Lord  Edward  was  written  : — 

FROM    MR.    MATTHEW    BOWLING    TO    LORD    HENRY    FITZGERALD. 

"  Newgate,  Sd  June. 
"  MY    LORD, 

"  Having,  in  happier  days,  had  some  success  and  much  satis- 
faction in  being  concerned  for  you  and  Mr.  Grattan  on  the 
city  election,  I  take  the  liberty  of  writing  to  inform  you  that 
your  brother  Lord  Edward,  is  most  dangerously  ill — in  fact, 
dying — he  was  delirious  some  time  last  night.  Surely,  my 
lord,  some  attention  ought  to  be  paid  him.  I  know  you'll 
pardon  this  application. 

"I  am  yours, 
"  With  respect  and  regard, 

''  Matt.  Dowling." 
"I  am  a  prisoner  a  few  day  days, — on  what  charge  I  know 
not. 

"  He  is  now  better,  and  has  called  for  a  chicken  for  din 
ner. 

"  Past  2. 

"  Seeing  you  or  any  friend  he  has  confidence  in,  would  I 
think  be  more  conducive  to  his  recovery  than  50  surgeons.  I 
saw  him  a  few  moments  last  night — but  he  did  not  know  me 
— we'll  watch  him  as  well  as  is  in  our  power." 

On  the  night  of  the  3d  of  June,  it  having  become  manifest 
that  the  noble  prisoner  could  not  survive  many  hours,  the 
hearts  of  those  in  authority  at  length  relented,  and  Lord 
Henry  and  Lady  Louisa  Conolly  were  permitted  to  take  a  last 
look  of  their  dying  relative."^ 

*  Tlie  folio-wing  narrative  of  the  arrest  of  Lord  Edward  Fitzger- 
ald at  the  house  of  Mr.  jS'icholas  Murphy,  No.  153  Thomas  street,  was 
drawn  up  by  the  latter,  partly  daring  the  period  of  his  long  confine* 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  223 

FROM    LADY   LOUISA    CONOLLY   TO    WILLIAM    OGILYIE,  ESQ. 

Dublin,  June  Itli,  1798. 
"  MY  DEAR    MR.  OGILVIE, 

"  At  two  o'clock  this  morning  our  beloved  Edward  was  at 
peace  ;  and,  as  the  tender  and  watchful  merc}^  of  God  is  ever 

ment  in  Newgate,  and  that  portion  of  it  relating  to  events  of  a  later 
date,  written'subsequently  to  his  liberation,  at  ditFerent  and  evidently 
at  distant  intervals.  From  the  time  of  his  death  it  remained  in  the 
hands  of  his  sister,  who  is  still  living  in  the  city  of  Dublin. 

All  Accouvt  of  the  Arr^  of  the  late  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  Written 
by  Xicliolas  Miirpliy,  in  tchose  house  the  arrest  took  place. 

"  On  the  night  of  Friday,  the  18th  May,  1798,  Lord  Edward  Fitz- 
gerald came  to  ui}'  house  (Xo.  153  Thomas  street)  in  com^^any  with  a 
Lady  ^.Mrs.  Moore)  about  the  hour  of  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  at  niglit. 
I  did  expect  him  the  previous  evening,  and  the  reason  I  state  this  is, 
that  a  friend  of  his  came  to  me,  and  requested  that  I  would  receive 
him,  as  he  wished  to  move  from  where  he  was  at  present.  I  was  get- 
ting the  house  cleaned  down  and  secured,  and  I  brought  his  friend  in, 
and  he  saw  tlie  persons  employed  as  I  told  him.  He  mentioned  that 
it  was  not  intended  to  remove  him  immediately,  but  said,  'I  think  a 
week  or  ten  days  would  answer.'  I  assented,  and  indeed  with  reluct- 
ance : — however,  I  made  no  mention  of  that.  In  a  few  days  previous 
to  Lord  Edward's  coming  the  government  had  offered  one  thousand 
pounds  reward  for  his  apprehension,  I  certainly  felt  very  uneasy  at 
this  circumstance,  and  1  wished  very  much  to  see  Lord  Edward,  but 
where  to  see  him  I  did  not  know.  As  a  man  of  honour,  I  wished  to 
keep  my  word,  and  I  could  not  think  of  refusing  him  admittance 
when  he  came.  Unfortunately  for  him  and  myself,  1  did  keep  my 
word.  I  expected  him  on  Thursday,  but  he  did  not  come  till  Friday, 
the  ISth  of  May,  1798.  I  perceived  he  looked  very  bad  and  altered 
from  what  he  appeared  ichen  I  saw  him  before.  The  lady  that  came 
with  him  did  not  stay  long,  and  I  made  a  tender  of  my  services  to  go 
home  with  her,  as  she  lived  in  the  neighbourhood,  there  was  a  person 
that  we  met  on  our  way  who  I  believe  was  waiting  for  her, — I  had 
some  knowledge  of  him  myself, — I  returned  to  the  house  with  a  trou- 
bled mind.  Lord  Edward  told  me  he  was  ver\-  ill  with  a  cold,  and  it 
Avas  easy  to  perceive  it.  I  had  {)rocured  for  him  whey,  and  put  some 
sherry  wine  in  it.  At  this  time  he  appeared  quite  tranquil,  and  went 
up  to  the  room  intended  for  him — the  back  room  in  the  attic  story. 
In  the  morning  he  came  down  to  breakfast,  and  appeared  better  than 
the  night  before.  The  friend  that  spoke  to  me  respecting  his  coming, 
came,  1  believe,  about  eleven  o'clock.  Then  came  out,  for  the  first 
time,  an  account  of  the  rencontre  that  took  place  the  night  before, 
between  Lord  Edward's  party  and  Major  Sirr's,  It  is  perfectly  clear, 
in  my  humble  judgment,  that  Major  Sirr  had  known  of  his  removal 


224  MEMOIRS    OF 

over  the  afflicted,  we  have  reason  to  siijjpose  this  dissolution 
took  place  at  the  moment  that  it  was  fittest  it  should  do  so. — 

and  the  direction  he  intended  to  take,  for  his  party  and  Lord  Edward's 
came  in  contact  in  a  place  called  Island-street,  at  the  lower  end  of 
Watling-street.  They  there  met,  and  a  skirmish  took  place,  and,  in 
the  confusion.  Lord  Edward  got  off;  however,  one  of  the  part\'  was 
taken,  but  could  not  be  identiiied.  I  found  my  situation  now  Aery 
painful,  but  nothing  to  what  it  was  afterwards.  In  the  course  of  the 
day  (Saturday  19th),  there  was  a  guard  of  soldiers,  and  I  believe 
Major  Swan,  Major  Sirr,  a  Mr.  Medlieot,  and  another,  making  a  search 
at  Mr.  Moore's  house,  the  Yellow  Lion,  in  Thomas-street.  A  friend 
came  and  mentioned  the  circumstance  to  me,  I  immediately  mentioned 
it  to  Lord  Edward,  and  had  him  conve^'ed  out  of  the  house,  and  con- 
cealed in  a  vallc}',  on  the  roof  of  one  of  the  warehouses.  While  I 
■was  doing  this,  Sam.  Xeilson  came,  and  inquired  of  the  girl  if  I  was  at 
home.  I  believe  the  girl  said  not.  '  Bid  him  be  cautious,'  I  think, 
was  what  she  told  me  he  said.  I  considered  that  conduct  of  his  very 
ill-timed,  however,  I  am  led  to  believe  it  was  well  intended. 

On  Saturday  morning,  the  daj-  of  the  arrest,  there  came  a  single 
rap  at  the  door.  I  opened  it  myself,  and  a  woman  with  a  bundle  ap- 
peared, and  inquired  if  that  was  Mr.  Murphy's.  I  said  it  was.  She 
informed  me  tliat  she  came  from  Mrs.  Moore,  and  was  directed  to 
leave  that  bundle  there.  I  knew  not  what  it  contained,  but  to  ray 
surprise,  when  I  opened  it,  I  found  it  to  be  a  uniform,  of  a  very 
beautiful  green  colour,  gimpt  or  braided  down  the  front,  with  crimson 
and  rose-colour  cuffs  and  cape ;  there  were  two  dresses — one  a  long- 
skirted  coat,  vest  and  pantaloons,  the  other  a  short  jacket,  that  came 
round  quite  close,  and  was  braided  in  front;  there  was  also  a  pair  of 
overalls,  that  buttoned  from  the  hip  to  the  ankle,  with,  I  think,  black 
Spanish  leather  on  the  sides.  I  suppose  they  were  intended  for  riding. 
The  bundle  contained  a  cap  of  a  A^ery  fanciful  description,  extremely 
attractive,  formed  exactly  like  a  sugar-loaf — that  part  that  went  round 
the  forehead  green,  the  upper  part  crimson,  with  a  large  tassel,  Avhich 
inclined  on  one  side  or  other  occasionally  when  on  the  head.  After 
placing  Lord  Edward  in  the  valley,  on  the  roof  of  the  warehouse,  I 
came  down  in  a  little  time  and  stood  at  the  gate,  the  soldiers  still  at 
Mr.  Moore's. 

I  perceived  four  persons  walking  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  some 
of  them  in  uniform.  I  believe  yeomen.  I  think  Major  Swan  and 
Captain  Medlieot  was  of  the  party.  Towards  four  o'clock.  Lord  Edward 
came  down  to  dinner,  ever^-thing  was  supposed  to  be  still.  Now  at 
this  time,  Sam.  Xeilson  came  in  to  see  us.  Dinner  was  nearly  read\%  I 
asked  him  to  stay  and  dine,  which  he  accepted.  Xothing  particular 
occurred,  except  speaking  on  a  variety  of  subjects,  when  Mr.  Xeilson, 
as  if  something  struck  him,  immediately  went  away  leaving  us  toge^ 
ther.  There  was  very  little  wine  taken.  Lord  Edward  was  very 
abstemious.  In  a  short  time  I  went  out,  and  now  the  tragedy  com- 
menced.    I  wished  to  leave  Lord  Edward  to  himself.     I  was  absent  I 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  225 

On  Friday  ni^ht,  a  very  2:reat  lowness  came  on,  tliat  made 
those  about  him  consider  him  much  in  dan^rer.  On  Saturday, 
he  seemed  to  have  recovered  the  attack,  but  on  that  niirht  was 
again  attacked  with  spasms,  that  subsided  again  yesterday 
morning.  But,  in  the  course  of  the  day,  Mrs.  Pakenham 
(from  whom  I  had  my  constant  accounts)  thought  it  best  to 

suppose  about  an  hour.  I  came  into  the  room  where  we  dined,  being 
the  back  drawing-room,  he  was  not  there.  I  went  to  the  sleeping- 
room,  he  was  in  bed.  It  was  at  this  time  about  seven  o'ckielc.  I 
asked  him  to  come  down  to  tea.  I  was  not  in  the  room  three  minutes 
when  in  came  Major  Swan,  and  a  person  following  him  in  a  soldier's 
jacket,  and  a  sword  in  his  hand,  he  wore  a  round  hat.  When  I  saw- 
Major  Swan  I  was  thunderstruck.  I  put  myself  before  him,  and  asked 
his  business.  He  looked  over  me  and  saw  Lord  Edward  in  the  bed. 
He  pushed  by  me  quickly,  and  Lord  Edward  seeing  him,  sprung  up 
instantly  like  a  tiger,  and  drew  a  dagger  which  he  had  carried  about 
him,  and  wounded  Major  Swan  slightly,  I  believe.  Major  Swan  had 
a  pistol  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  which  he  tired  without  effect,  he  im- 
mediately turned  to  me  and  gave  me  a  severe  thrust  of  the  pistol  un- 
der the  eye,  at  the  same  time  desiring  the  person  that  came  in  with 
him,  to  ttake  me  into  custody.  I  was  immediately  taken  away  to  the 
yard,  there  I  saw  Major  Sirr  and  about  six  soldiers  of  the  Dumbarton 
Fencibles.  Major  Swan  had  thought  proper  to  run  as  fast  as  he  could 
to  the  street,  and  I  think  he  never  looked  behind  him  till  he  got  out  of 
danger,  and  he  was  then  parading  up  and  down  the  flags,  exhiluting 
his  linen  Avhieh  was  stained  with  blood,  Mr.  Ryan  supplied  Major 
Swan's  place,  he  came  in  contact  with  Lord  Edward  and  was  wounded 
seriously.  Major  Sirr  at  that  time  came  up  stairs,  and  keeping  at  a 
respectful  distance,  fired  a  pistol  at  Lord  Edward  in  a  very  deliberate 
manner,  and  wounded  him  in  the  Tipper  part  of  the  shoulder.  Re-in- 
forcements  coming  in,  Lord  Edward  surrendered  after  a  very  hard 
struggle.  *  *  *  * 

In  some  time  a  carriage  came  and  I  was  placed  in  it,  and  brought 
off  to  the  Castle  and  there  placed  in  the  Castle  guard-house.  *  *  * 
A  large  guard  was  ordered  to  prime  and  load,  then  I  was  placed  in 
the  centre,  and  marched  off  to  Xewgate.         *  ^  * 

Two  surgeons  attended  daily  on  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald.  It' was 
supposed,  the  evening  of  the  day  before  he  died,  he  was  delirious,  as 
we  could  hear  him,  with  a  very  strong  voice  crying  out — 'come  on! 
come  on  !  d — n  you,  come  on! '  He  spoke  so  loud  that  the  people  in 
the  street  gathered  to  listen  to  it.  He  died  the  next  day  early  in  the 
morning,  on  the  3d  of  June.  The  surgeons  attended  and  opened  the 
body,  tlien  he  was  seen  for  the  first  time  by  the  prisoners.  The  bowels 
were  opened,  and  whatever  was  found  there  was  thrown  under  the 
grate,  and  then  the  part  opened  was  sewn  up.  He  had  about  his  neck 
a  gold  chain  suspending  a  locket  with  hair  in  it." — Maddens  United 
Irishmen. 


226  MEMOIRS    OF 

send  an  express  for  me.     I  came  to  town,  and  got  leave  to  go, 
with  my  poor  dear  Henry,  to  see  him. 

"  Tiianks  to  the  great  God  !  our  visit  was  timed  to  the  mo- 
ment that  the  wretched  situation  allowed  of.  His  mmd  had 
been  agitated  for  two  days,  and  the  feeUng  was  enough  gone, 
not  to  be  overcome  by  the  sight  of  his  brother  and  me.  We 
had  the  consolation  of  seeing  and  feeling  that  it  was  a  pleasure 
to  him.  I  first  approached  his  bed  :  he  looiied  at  me,  knew 
me,  kissed  me,  and  said  (what  will  never  depart  from  my  ears), 
*  It  is  heaven  to  me  to  see  you  !'  and,  shortly  after,  turning  to 
the  other  side  of  his  bed,  he  said,  '  I  can  t  see  you.'  I  went 
round,  and  he  soon  after  kissed  my  hand,  and  smiled  at  me, 
which  I  shall  never  forget,  thoui>:h  I  saw  death  in  his  dear 
face  at  the  time.  I  then  told  him  that  Henry  was  come.  He 
said  nothing  tliat  marked  surprise  at  his  being  in  Ireland, 
but  expressed  joy  at  hearing  it,  and  said,  '  Where  is  he,  dear 
fellow  V 

"  Henry  then  took  my  place,  and  the  two  dear  brothers  fre- 
quently embraced  each  other,  to  the  melting  a  heart  of  stone  ; 
and  yet  God  enabled  both  Henry  and  myself  to  remain  quite 
composed.  As  every  one  left  the  room,  we  told  him  we  only 
were  with  him.  He  said,  '  That  is  very  pleasant.'  However, 
he  remained  silent,  and  I  then  brought  in  the  subject  of  Lady 
Edward,  and  told  him  that  I  had  not  left  her  until  I  saw  her 
on  board  ;  and  Henry  told  him  of  having  met  her  on  tlie  road 
well.  He  said,  'And  the  children  too"? — She  is  a  charming 
woman  :'  and  then  became  silent  again.  That  expression 
about  Lady  Edward  proved  to  me  that  his  senses  were  much 
lulled,  and  that  he  did  not  feel  his  situation  to  be  what  it  was  ; 
but,  thank  God  !  they  were  enough  alive  to  receive  pleasure 
from  seeing  his  brother  and  me.  Dear  Henry,  in  particular, 
he  looked  at  continually  with  an  expression  of  pleasure. 

"  When  we  left  him,  we  told  him,  that  as  he  appeared 
inclined  to  sleep,  we  would  wish  him  a  good  night,  and  return 
in  the  morning.  He  said,  '  Do,  do  ;'  but  did  not  express  any 
uneasiness  at  our  leaving  him.  We  accordingly  tore  ourselves 
away,  and  very  shortly  after  Mr.  Garnet,  (the  surgeon  that 
attended  him  for  the  two  days,  upon  the  departure  of  Mr. 
Stone,  the  officer  that  had  been  constantly  with  him)  sent  me 
word  that  the  last  convulsions  soon  came  on,  and  ended  at  two 
o'clock,  so  that  we  were  within  two  hours  and  a  half  before  the 


LORD    EDTVARD    FITZGERALD.  22T 

ibad  close  to  a  life  we  prized  so  dearly,*  He  sometimes  said, 
*  I  knew  it  must  come  to  this,  and  we  must  all  go  ;'  and  then 
rambled  a  little  about  militia,  and  numbers  ;  but  upon  my 
saying  to  him,  '  It  agitates  you  to  talk  upon  those  subjects,' 
he  said,  *  Well,  I  won't.' 

"  I  hear  that  he  frequently  composed  his  dear  mind  with 
prayer, — was  vastly  devout,  and  as  late  as  yesterday  evening, 
got  Mr.  Garnet,  the  surgeon,  to  read  in  the  Bible  the  death  of 
Christ,  the  subject  picked  out  by  himself,  and  seemed  much 
composed  by  it.  In  short,  My  dear  Mr.  Ogilvie,  we  have 
every  reason  to  think  that  his  mind  was  made  up  to  his  situa- 
tion, and  can  look  to  his  present  happy  state  with  thanks  for 
his  release.  Such  a  heart  and  such  a  mind  may  meet  his  God  ! 
The  friends  that  he  was  entangled  with  pushed  his  destruction 
forward,  screening  themselves  behind  his  valuable  character. 
God  bless  you  !  The  ship  is  just  sailing,  and  Henry  puts  this 
into  the  post  at  Holyhead. 

"  Ever  yours, 

"  L.  C." 

From  the  heart-breaking  scene  here  described  Lord  Henry 
hurried  off,  instantly,  to  Holyhead,  and  from  thence,  in  the 
agony  of  the  moment,  addressed  a  long  letter  to  Lord  Cam- 
den, of  which  it  would  be  injustice  to  both  parties  to  lay  the 
Avhole  before  the  world  ; — the  noble  writer  being  at  the  time 
in  a  state  of  excitement  that  left  him  scarcely  the  master  of 
his  own  thoughts,  while  in  the  gross,  gratuitous  cruelty  which 
marked,  on  this,  as  on  all  other  occasions,  the  conduct  of  the 
Irish  government.  Lord  Camden  had  no  further  share  than 
what  arose  out  of  the  lamentable  weakness  with  which  he 
surrendered  his  own  humaner  views  to  the  overruling  violence 
of  others.  This  vindication  of  his  lordship, — if  vindication  it 
can  be  called,  to  defend  thus  his  humanity  at  the  expense  of 
his  good  sense— was  brought  forward,  during  the  very  heat  of 

*  The  following  is  Mr.  Garnet's  note  announcing  the  event : 

"Six o'clock,  June  3d,  1798. 

"  Mr.   Garnet  presents  his  most   respectful    compliments  to  Lady 

Louisa  CouoUy,  and  begs  leave  to  communicate  to  her  the  melancholy 

intelligence  of  Lord  Edward   Fitzgerald's   death.     He  drew  his  last 

breath  at  two  o'clock  this  morning,  after  a  struggle  that  began  soon 


after  his  friends  left  him  last  night." 


228  MEMOIRS    OF 

the  crisis  itself,  by  one  who  best  knew  the  real  authors  of 
that  system  of  governing  from  the  guilt  of  which  he  so  far 
exonerated  his  chief.  In  boasting  of  the  success  of  those 
measures  of  coercion  which  had  l3een  adopted  by  the  Irish 
government,  Lord  Clare  expressedly  avowed,  in  the  house  of 
Lords,  that  they  "  were,  to  his  knoicledge,  extorted  from  the 
nobleman  who  governed  that  countrv." 

To  this  best  of  all  testimonies  on  such  a  point,  is  to  be  ad- 
ded also  the  evidence  of  Sir  Ralph  Abercrombie,  who  always 
declared,  that  in  every  suggestion  which  he  had,  in  his  own 
capacity,  tendered  to  the  Irish  cabinet,  recommending  the 
adoption  of  a  more  liberal  and  conciliatory  policy,  he  had  been 
invariably  supported  in  the  council  by  Lord  Camden  ;  though, 
when  matters  came  to  a  decision,  the  more  violent  spirits  car- 
ried it  their  own  wav,  and  the  sanction  of  the  lord  lieutenant 
was  thus  yielded  to  a  course  of  measures  which,  in  his  heart, 
he  disapproved.  For  these  reasons,  as  well  as  from  a  sincere 
admiration  of  the  disinterestedness  which,  as  a  public  servant, 
this  nobleman  has  displayed,  I  most  willingly  expunge  from 
Lord  Henry's  letter  all  such  expressions  as,  though  natural  in 
his  state  of  feeling,  at  the  moment,  appear  to  me  undeservedly 
harsh  towards  the  noble  person  to  whom  they  are  applied. 

FROM    LORD    HENRY    FITZGERALD     TO    THE    EARL    OF    CAMDEX. 
"  MY  LORD, 

"  A  little  removed  from  scenes  of  misery  and  wretchedness 
scarcely  to  be  equalled,  I  feel  myself,  thank  God  !  sufficiently 
composed  to  write  you  this  letter.  I  owe  it  to  the  memory  of 
a  beloved,  I  may  almost  say  an  adored  brother.  An  uncom- 
mon affection,  from  our  childhood,  subsisted  between  us  ;  such 
a  one  as  *  *  *.  The  purport  of  this,  however,  is  not  to  give 
a  loose  to  reproaches  alone,  but  to  state  to  you,  and  to  the 
world  ^  ^  *  supported  by  facts.  A  full  catalogue  of  them 
would  take  up  many  pages  ;  mine  is  very  short.  Many  indig- 
nities offered  to  him  I  shall  for  the  present  pass  over  in  silence, 
and  begin  from  the  time  of  my  arrival  in  Ireland,  which  was 
last  Thursday. 

"  Surgeon  Lindsay,  who  attended  my  brother  with  Surgeon 
Stewart,  told  me,  when  I  really  had  imagined  my  brother  to 
be  in  a  recovering  state,  that,  a  few  days  before,  he  had  been 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  229 

dangerously  ill :  '  apprehensive  of  a  lock  jaw'  was  his  expres- 
sion ;  and  that  he  had  been  consulted  about  the  breast.  I 
also  learned  that  he  had  made  his  will,  &c.  Mr.  Lindsay- 
added,  '  But,  however,  he  is  now  much  better  ;'  and  told  me, 
also,  that  the  wounds  were  going  on  well,  and  that  he  did  not 
apprehend  any  danger  from  them.  When  I  came  to  inquire 
into  the  circumstances  relating  to  the  signing  of  the  will  from 
others,  I  find  this  suffering,  dying  man  was  not  even  allowed 
to  see  his  lawyer,  a  young  man  he  put  confidence  in,  but  the 
paper  was  handed  first  in  and  then  out  of  the  prison,  through 
the  hands  of  the  surgeons.  Possiljly  he  might  have  had  little 
or  nothing  to  say  to  his  lawyer,  but  a  decent  consideration  of 
his  situation  ought  to  have  left  him  a  choice  of  seeing  him  or  not. 

"  Thus  situated  as  he  was,  who  would  have  thought,  my 
lord,  but  that,  upon  my  arrival,  you  would  yourself  have 
urged  me  to  see  him.  *  *  "^^  After  this  came  my  audience  of 
your  excellency  :  *  *  * — I  implored,  I  intreated  of  you,  to  let 
me  see  him.  I  never  begged  hard  before.  All,  all  in  vain  ! 
you  talked  of  lawyers'  opinions  ; — of  what  had  been  refused  to 
others  and  could  not  be  granted  for  me  in  the  same  situation. 
His  was  not  a  common  case  ; — he  was  not  in  the  same  situa- 
tion ;  he  was  wounded,  and  in  a  manner  dying,  and  his  bitter- 
est enemy  could  not  have  murmured,  had  your  heart  been 
softened,  or  had  you  swerved  a  little  from  duty  (if  it  can  be 
called  one)  in  the  cause  of  humanity. 

"  On  Friday,  the  surgeon  told  me  still  that  the  wounds  were 
going  on  well ;  but  that  he  perceived,  as  the  pain  subsided, 
that  his  mind  was  more  than  usually  engaged.  He  felt  ill- 
treatment.  =5^  *  *  *  — l3ut  he  communed  with  his  God,  and 
his  God  did  not  forsake  him.  But,  oh  !  my  lord,  what  a  day 
was  Saturday  for  him  !  >k  *  ^  >!c  :>.  q^  ^gaturday,  my  poor 
forsaken  brother,  who  had  but  that  night  and  the  next  day  to 
live,  was  disturbed  ; — he  heard  the  noise  of  the  execution  of 
CUnch,  at  the  prison  door.  He  asked,  eagerly,  '  What  noise 
is  that  V  and  certainlv  in  some  manner  or  other  he  knew  it  ; 
for, — 0  God  !  what  am  1  to  write  ? — from  that  time  he  lost 
his  senses  :  most  part  of  the  night  he  was  raving  mad  ;  a 
keeper  from  a  madhouse  was  necessary.  Thanks  to  the 
Almighty,  he  got  more  composed  towards  morning. 

"]S[ow,  my  lord,  shall  I  scruple  to  declare  to  the  world, — I 
wish  I  could  to  the  four  quarters  of  it  ! — that  among  you, 


230  MEMOIRS    OF 

your  ill-treatment  has  murdered  my  brother,  as  much  as  if  you 
had  put  a  pistol  to  his  head.  In  this  situation  uo  charitable 
message  arrives  to  his  relations,  no  offer  to  allow  attaelied 
servants  to  attend  upon  him,  who  could  have  been  depended 
upon  in  keeping  dreadful  news  of  all  sorts  from  liim.  Xo,  no  ; 
to  his  grave  in  madness,  3'ou  would  pursue  him, — to  his  grave 
you  persecuted  him. 

"  One  would  think  I  could  add  no  more, — but  I  have  not 
yet  done.  At  this  very  time,  a  Mr.  Stone,  an  officer,  that  was 
in  the  room  with  him,  whom  they  tell  me  he  grew  fond  of  and 
liked,  was  removed,  and  a  total  stranger  put  about  him.  Are 
you  aware,  my  lord,  of  the  comfort,  of  the  happiness  of  see- 
ing well-known  faces  round  the  bed  of  sickness,  and  the  cruelty 
ot  the  reverse  ?  or,  have  you  hitherto  been  so  much  a  stranger 
to  the  infirmities  of  this  mortal  life,  as  never  to  have  known 
what  it  was  to  feel  joy  in  pain,  or  cheerfulness  in  sorrow,  from 
the  pressure  of  a  friend's  hand,  or  the  kind  looks  of  relations  ? 
yet  he,  my  lord,  possessed  as  he  was  of  the  tenderness  of  a 
woman  to  all  whom  he  loved,  was  abandoned,  most  barbar- 
ously neglected  ;— a  man  to  attend  him  (and  that,  I  believe, 

only  latterly,)  as  a  nurse. 

^  ^  ^  ^  1^ 

"  These  were  his  friends,  these  his  attendants  on  his  death- 
bed in  Newgate.  Sunday,  I  urged  the  chancellor  once  more, 
and  stung  him  so  home,  with  regard  to  the  unheard-of  cruelty 
of  hanging  Clinch  close  to  my  brother,  in  his  \veak  state,  that 
he  did  seem  sorry  and  to  relent.  He  said,  '  It  was  very  wrong 
indeed,  that  he  was  sorry  for  it,  that  it  should  not  happen 
again,  but  that  they  did  not  know  it,'  was  his  expression.  Oh, 
my  lord  !  what  does  not  this  expression  involve  ?  what  vo- 
lumes might  be  written  on  these  last  words  ! — but  that  is 
foreign  to  my  purpose.  At  last  the  chancellor  in  a  sort  of 
way,  gave  me  hopes  of  seeing  ray  poor  brother, — talked  even 
of  the  secrecy  with  which  the  visit  must  be  conducted.  The 
joy  of  a  reprieved  wretch  could  not  exceed  mine  ; — it  was  of 
short  duration.  The  prospect  that  gladdened  me  with  the 
hopes  that,  in  the  interval,  when  he  was  quiet,  I  might  still  be 
a  comfort, — be  of  use  to  him, — vanished.  A  note  from  the 
chancellor  came,  saying,  that  my  request  could  not  be  granted. 
What  severity  could  surpass  this  ? 

"  In  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  the  surgeons  told  me  that 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  231 

the  symptoms  of  death  were  such  as  made  them  think  he 
would  not  last  out  the  niglit.  Then,  I  believe,  the  Ahnighty 
smote  your  consciences  !  Lady  Louisa  and  myself  indeed  saw 
him  three  hours  before  he  breathed  his  last,  in  the  grated  room 
of  Newgate.  God  help  you  !  that  was  the  extent  of  your 
charity.  This  was  your  justice  in  mercy, — but  I  will  not  im- 
bitter  the  sweet  remembrance  of  that  scene,  which  I  hope 
will  go  with  me  through  life,  by  mistimed  asperity,  nor  will  I 
dare  to  talk  of  it  *  *  =^ 

^  :it  4c  ^  ;|c  4c 

"  My  grief  has  plunged  me  deeper  into  correspondence  with 
you  than  I  at  first  wished  ;  but  to  recount  a  brother's  suffer- 
ings, a  brother's  wrongs,  and,  above  all,  his  patience,  is,  and 
will  be,  my  duty  to  the  end  of  my  life.  I  will  complain  for 
him,  though  his  great  heart  never  uttered  a  complaint  for  him- 
self, from  the  day  of  his  confinement.  My  lord,  you  did  not 
know  him,  and  happy  is  it  for  you.  He  was  no  common  being. 
I  have  now  eased  my  mind  of  a  part  of  the  load  that  oppressed 
it,  and  shall  now  conclude,  returning  thanks  to  that  kind  Pro- 
vidence that  directed  my  steps  to  Ireland,  just  in  time  to  dis- 
cover and  be  the  recorder  of  these  foul  deeds. 

"  One  word  more  and  I  have  done,  as  I  alone  am  answera- 
ble for  this  letter.  Perhaps  you  will  still  take  compassion  on 
his  wife  and  three  babes,  the  eldest  not  four  years  old.  The  op- 
portunity that  I  ofi'er  is  to  protect  their  estate  for  them  from 
violence  and  plunder.    You  can  do  it  if  you  please.    I  am,  &c." 

FROM    LADY    LOUSIA    CONOLLVT    TO    LORD    HENRY    FITZGERALD. 

"JNIonday  evening,  7  o'clock. 

"  MY    DEAREST    HENRY, 

"  To  tell  you  with  what  heartbreaking  sorrow  I  parted  with 
you  this  morning  is  surely  unnecessary.  God  protect  you  and 
relieve  you,  my  dear,  dear  nephew,  for  doubly  dear  does  your 
misfortunes  make  you  to  me.  I  have  sent  Shells  for  some 
more  hair,  the  little  gray  cloak,  and  all  the  apparel  that  we 
saw  on  him,  to  be  put  by  for  you.  I  have  also  consented  to 
the  funeral's  taking  place  on  Wednesday  night,  from  a  circum- 
stance Dr.  Lindsay  informed  me  of,  just  as  I  returned  from  you, 
which  was  the  necessity  of  opening  the  body,  as  a  coroner's 


232  MEMOIRS    OF 

inquest  sat  upon  it,  to  ascertain  the  causes  of  dissolution, 
which  were  proved  to  arise  from  fever. 

"  Mr.  Stone  and  Mr.  Shells  are  to  go  in  the  coach,  and  1 
have  written  down  the  direction  for  tlie  intermediate  attention, 
— ordering  the  man  and  Avoman  who  attended  him  during  the 
illness  to  sit  up  these  two  nights,  and  sent  them  necessaries 
for  the  puq^ose.  I  have  got  the  watch  and  chain  that  hung 
constantly  round  his  neck,  with  a  locket  of  hair,  which  I  will 
send  you  by  the  first  opportunity,  along  with  his  own  dear 
hair.  I  have  been  also  with  Hamilton  the  painter.  There 
are  two  pictures  of  him,  one  for  your  mother,  and  the  other 
for  you,  besides  one  of  Lucy,  I  believe,  for  you  also.  Mr. 
Hamilton  says  they  are  not  finished,  and  cannot  be  ready  to 
go  to  England  these  two  months  ;  but  he  will  hasten  them  as 
much  as  possible,  and  I  will  take  care  to  forward  them.  My 
love  to  your  dear  wife,  and  believe  me  ever,  my  dearest  Henry, 
your  most  affectionate  aunt  and  fellow-sufierer, 

"  L.  CONOLLY." 

FROM    CHARLES    LOCK,    ESQ.,    TO    WILLIAM    OGILVIE,    ESQ. 

"  Harley-street,  June  9,  1798. 

"  DEAR    SIR, 

"You  will  be  glad  to  know  that  the  intelligence  of  this 
misfortune  has  not  had  the  violent  effect  we  feared  upon  Cecilia. 
On  Thursday  we  prepared  her  for  it,  by  informing  her  that 
Lord  Edward  was  in  extreme  danger.  She  cried  very  much 
during  the  course  of  the  day,  and  being  tired  with  the  agita- 
tion, and  perhaps  soothing  herself  with  a  ray  of  hope,  slept 
tolerably  well.  Yesterday,  I  was  under  the  painful  necessity 
of  disclosing  to  her  the  truth.  S!ie  had  two  hysteric  fits,  and 
suff"ered  dreadfully  all  the  day  ;  but  towards  evening  became 
more  composed,  and  was  perfectly  calm  at  bedtime.  She  slept 
several  hours,  and  is  this  morning,  though  extremely  low,  col- 
lected, and  seems  resigned.  Her  grief  will  be  lasting,  but  I 
no  longer  fear  any  premature  effects  from  its  violence. 

"What  you  write  of  Lady  Sophia  and  Lucy  is  very  com- 
fortable. If  Lady  Lucy  feared  when  her  brother  was  arrested 
that  the  event  would  be  fatal,  from  knowing  more  of  the  mat- 
ter than  ourselves,  it  will  account  for  the  alarming  state  of 
mind  she  was  in  previous  to  her  leaving  London,  and  I  trust 


LORD  ED-WARD  FITZGERALD.  233 

Blie  will  be  lei?s  afifected  now.  1  think  there  is  every  reason  to 
hope,  from  tlie  religious  temper  of  mind  the  dear  dntchess 
possesses,  that  she  will  snpport  herself  under  this  heavy  dis- 
pensation with  fortitude.  My  mother  has  been  here  constantly, 
and  so  has  Charlotte,  who  desires  her  love  to  you,  and  says 
she  does  not  write  since  I  am  writing.  She  has  been  of  the 
greatest  assistance  and  comfort  to  Cecilia,  from  the  composure 
she  has  shown  from  the  beginning,  and  will  be  so  to  her  mother 
and  sisters  when  they  arrive. 

"  Lord  Henry  came  to  town  last  night.  The  Dukes  of 
Richmond  and  Leinster  have  been  to  Stratford-place,  but  it 
was  thought  prudent  he  should  not  see  any  one  yet,  as  he  is 
much  agitated  and  fatigued  with  all  he  has  undergone.  I 
shall  probably  hear  from  you  to-morrow,  and  I  hope  good 
news.     Believe  me  very  sincerely  yours, 

''  Chas.  Lock." 

from  the  duke  of  richmond  to  william  ogilvie,  esq. 

"  Whiteliall,  Jnne  9th,  1798. 

"  You  will  believe,  my  dear  Mr.  Ogilvie,  how  anxious  I  am 
to  hear  of  my  poor  sister.  Charles  Lock  showed  me,  this 
morning,  your  letter  to  him  from  Coles-hill  ;  and  I  trust  we 
shall  hear  again  to-morrow  how  she  is  able  to  bear  this  dread- 
ful blow.  I  doubt,  that  now  the  hopes  of  saving  him,  which 
kept  up  her  mind,  and  occupied  her  attention  are  gone,  she 
will  sink  into  melancholy  and  wretched  regret.  The  only 
topics  to  keep  her  up  are  what  you  so  wisely  hint  at  in  your  let- 
ter,— the  reflections  of  how  much  worse  it  probably  would  have 
ended, — the  saving  of  his  fortune  for  his  children, — and  the 
pleasure  of  now  showing  to  his  wife  and  them  the  affection  one 
possessed  for  him.  Little  Edward  will  be  an  occupation  for 
my  sister,  and  the  reflection  of  the  shocking  scenes  that  have 
been  avoided  will  afford  a  comfort  for  a  loss  which,  any  way, 
was,  I  fear,  inevitable. 

"  Believe  me,  I  feel  much  for  the  terrible  task  you  have  had, 
of  (conducting  Lady  Sophia  and  Lady  Lucy  from  Towcester 
to  Coles-hill,  and  without  female  assistance.  But  you  have 
shown  such  kindness  to  them  all,  that  the  recollection  of  the 
real  use  you  have  been  of  will,  I  trust,  compensate  for  the 
pain  it  has  occasioned.     You  and  my  sister  will  be  glad  to 


234  MEMOIRS    OF 

know  how  those  left  here  go  on.  As  soon  as  I  heard  the  event, 
which  the  Duke  of  Portland  very  humanely  communicated  to 
me,  I  sent  to  Harley-street  to  know  if  you  was  gone,  and  had 
a  messenger  ready  to  despatch  after  you,  when  they  brought 
me  word  that  Lady  Henry  had  sent  her  servant.  I  went  im- 
mediately to  Harley-street,  and  brought  Lady  Edward  here, 
trying  to  prepare  her,  in  the  coach,  for  bad  news,  which  I  re- 
peatedly said  I  dreaded  by  the  next  post.  She,  however,  did 
not  take  my  meaning.  When  she  got  here,  we  had  Dr.  Moseley 
present,  and,  by  degrees,  we  broke  to  her  the  sad  event.  Her 
agonies  of  grief  were  very  great,  and  violent  hysterics  soon 
came  on.  When  the  Duke  of  Leinster  came  in,  she  took  liim 
for  Edward,  and  you  may  imagine  how  cruel  a  scene  it  v/as. 
But  by  degrees,  though  very  slow  ones,  she  grew  more  calm 
at  times  :  and,  although  she  has  had  little  sleep,  and  still  less 
food,  ancl  has  nervous  spasms,  and  appears  much  heated,  yet  I 
hope  and  trust  her  health  is  not  materially  affected.  She  yes- 
terday saw  her  children,  and  all  of  his  family  who  had  been 
able  to  come  here,  but  no  one  else,  except  Miss  Coote,  who 
got  admittance  by  mistake.  She  is  as  reasonable  as  possible, 
and  shows  great  goodness  of  heart  in  the  constant  inquiries 
she  is  making  about  my  sister.  Lady  Lucy,  and  Mrs.  Lock. 
It  seems  a  diversion  of  her  own  grief  to  employ  her  mind  in 
anxiety  for  that  of  those  she  most  loves,  and  who  were  dearest 
to  her  dear  husband. 

"  The  Duke  of  Leinster  has  supported  himself  with  great 
fortitude,  though,  with  Lady  Edward,  he  is  often  crying.  Lady 
Mary  has  also  great  command  over  herself  ;  Lady  Emily  less. 
Dear  Cecilia  is,  I  trust,  as  well  as  can  be  expected.  Tiiey 
thought  it  right  to  break  the  business  to  her  by  very  slow 
degrees,  which,  I  fear,  rather  tormented  her  with  a  vain  hope  ; 
but,  since  she  has  known  the  worst,  she  is  more  quiet  and  com- 
posed. In  one  way  or  other  the  effusions  of  grief  must  have 
their  vent,  but  after  that  one  gets  somehow  recont-iled  to 
misery.  Lady  Charlotte  Sturtt's  fortitude  has  not  forsaken 
her  strong  mind,  and,  though  much  distressed,  she  employs  her 
whole  time  with  Cecilia. 

"  Lady  Henry,  too  happy  to  have  got  her  husband  back,  is 
totally  occupied  about  him,  I  called  there  this  morning,  but 
he  was  not  composed  enough  to  see  me.  Lady  Henry  told 
me  that  he  was  very  angry  and  violent  ;  that  he  had  written 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  235 

a  warm  letter  to  the  lord  lieutenant,  and  talked  of  publishing 

accounts  of   the  treatment  his  brother  had  received.     One 

knows  Henry's  good  and  warm  heart  enough  to  prepare  for 

his  feelino's  been  thus  excited  bv  having  been  so  near  a  witness 

of  events  which,  in  every  light,  convey  such  unpleasant  thoughts. 

But  I  trust  that  a  litte  calm  reflection,  and  talking  with  his 

friends,  will  convince  him  that  his  plans  can  do  no  good,  but, 

on  the  contrary,  much  harm  now.     Attacks  will  be  retaliated, 

and  periiaps  be  attended  with  unpleasant  circumstances  ;  and 

now,  I  do  think,  the  best  friends  to  poor  Edward's  memory 

must  wish  to  have  as  little  said  of  the  past  as  possible.     No 

doubt  some  things  might  have  been  better  :  more  humanity 

and  attention  to  him  might  have  been  shown,  and  would  have 

done  them  credit  ;  but  some  allowances  are  to  be  made  for  the 

critical  times,  in  which  there  were  too  many  things  to  think 

of  to  permit  half  to  be  done  properly.     The  Duke  of  Leinster 

is  quite  reasonable  and  right  about  keeping  all  discussions 

down,  and  I  trust  we  shall  soon  bring  Henry  to  our  opinions. 

I  have  been  promised  that  I  shall  see  him  before  anybody 

else,  except  his  brother. 

:{{  ^  H<  *  * 

"The  Duke  of  Leinster,  Lord  Holland,  and  myself,  on 
hearing  a  variety  of  reports,  thought  it  right  that  something 
should  be  published,  and  accordingly  the  enclosed  was  agreed 
upon,  and  sent  to  the  papers  ;  I  hope  you  and  my  sister  will 
approve  of  it.  Lady  Henry,  this  morning,  showed  me  a  copy 
of  poor  Edward's  will.  It  was,  I  think,  dated  the  27th  of 
May.  He  makes  Henry  trustee,  to  pay  off  debts,  and  gives 
the  remainder  to  his  wife  for  life,  and  then  in  equal  shares 
among  his  children  ;  failing  of  them,  to  his  right  heirs. 

"  You  will  see  in  the  papers  such  news  as  we  have  about 
Ireland  ;  it  seems  but  bad  ;  but  there  are  reports  to-day, 
though  I  believe  not  as  yet  confirmed,  that  the  rebel  camp  at 
Wexford  has  been  carried  with  great  slaughter  ;  and  it  is  said 
that  the  regiments  are  goinu-from  hence.  I  hear  from  Charles 
Lock,  that  you  very  prudently  mean  to  stop  at  Coles-hill  for 
some  days,  and  then  come  up  by  slow  journeys  to  London.  I 
wished  to  wait  here  vour  arrival,  and  after  a  few  dav's  rest,  to 
propose  to  you  all  to  go  to  Goodwood,  where  you  will  have 
good  air,  and  a  quiet  you  can  never  get  in  this  town,  which 
seems  to  me  quite  necessary  for  all.     But  perhaps  my  sister 


236  MEMOIRS    OF 

may  wish  to  wait  in  town,  to  attend  Cecilia,  or  perhaps  she 
may  trust  her  with  her  mother-in-law. 

"  I  am  most  anxious  that  she  and  all  of  you  should  do 
whatever  may,  on  the  whole,  appear  pleasanter  to  her.  Good- 
wood will  hold  you  and  my  sister,  Lady  Sophia,  Lady  Lucy, 
Miss  Og'ilvie,  Lady  Edward  and  her  children,  and  Lord  and 
Lady  Henry.  The  Duke  of  Leinster  must,  of  course,  stay 
with  his  wife,  and  Lady  Charlotte  Sturtt  will  be  with  her  hus- 
band ;  but  I  can  take  all  the  rest,  and  more  if  necessary. 
Don't  let  my  sister  fancy  that  it  will  be  crowding,  or  distress- 
ing me.  Far  otherwise,  I  assure  you  :  it  will  give  me  real 
pleasure  to  be  of  any  use  to  you  all  on  so  melancholy  an  occa- 
sion, and  it  is  on  such  that  the  affections  of  near  relations  is 
soothing  to  grief.  I  hope,  too,  that  the  quiet  of  Coventry 
may  be  useful,  for  I  expect  nobody,  and  at  all  events  should 
have  nobody  else  then. 

"  Lady  Edward,  to  whom  I  have  talked  on  this  scheme, 
seems  rather  inclined  to  go  to  Hamburgh,  as  soon  as  she  has 
seen  my  sister  a  little  more  composed.  Lady  Lucy  quiet,  and 
Mrs.  Lock  brought  to  bed.  She  is  very  naturally  suspicious, 
and  diso-usted  with  aff"airs  in  this  countrv  ;  and  although  she 
says  that  polities  are  the  last  thing  she  should  think  of,  yet  she 
fancies  she  should  be  quieter  at  Hamburgh  than  in  England. 
I  wish  her  to  do  exactly  what  her  own  inclination  may  lead 
her  to,  for  I  have  no  other  wish  than  to  see  her  as  comfortable 
as  her  misfortunes  will  permit  ;  and  it  will  be  no  inconvenience 
whatever  for  me  to  have  her  remain  some  time  at  Goodwood. 
My  sister's  wishes  will  determine  me  to  press  it  or  not ;  as, 
for  my  own  part,  I  really  should  feel  a  particular  pleasure  in 
showing  this  mark  of  attention  to  poor  Edward's  memory.* 

*  Lady  Fitzgerald  was  first  known  as  the  cherished  pupil,  if  not  the 
adopted  child  of  Madame  de  Genlis,  and  beyond  that,  little  was  ascer- 
tained of  her  connexions  or  her  birth.  About  the  year  1782,  the  Duke 
of  Orleans  committed  the  education  of  his  children  to  Madame  de 
Genlis,  and  she,  anxious  that  they  should  become  perfect  in  the  living 
languages,  had  taken  into  their  service  English  and  Italian  female  do- 
mestics, and  she  moreover  resolved  on  educating  with  these  children 
a  young  English  girl  of  nearly  their  own  age.  The  Duke  de  Chartres 
was  then  in  correspondence  with  a  Mr.  Forth,  and  requested  him  to 
find  out,  and  send  over  to  France,  a  handsome  little  girl  of  from  five 
to  six  years  of  age.  Mr.  Forth  immediately  executed  his  commission, 
and  sent  by  his  valet,  a  horse,  together  with  the  infant,  and  accom- 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  23 Y 

I  have  a  county  meeting  at  Lewes,  on  this  day  se'nnight,  the 
16th  instant,  which  I  wish  to  attend,  and  shall  be  gh\d  if  it 

panied  by  a  note  in  these  words — "  I  have  the  honoiir  to  send  to  your 
highness,  the  finest  mare  and  the  prettiest  little  girl  in  all  England." 
This  infant  was  Pamela,  afterwards  Lady  Edward  Fitzgerald.  Her 
arrival  at  the  Palais  Royale,  occasioned  odd  conjectures.  She  was, 
however  educated  with  the  prince  and  princesses,  as  a  companion  and 
a  friend;  she  had  the  same  masters,  was  taken  equal  care  of,  partook 
in  their  sports,  and  her  astonishing  resemblance  to  the  Duke's  children 
would  have  made  her  pass  for  their  sister,  were  it  not  for  her  foreign 
accent.  While  Pamela  and  the  young  princess  were  pursuing  their 
studies  in  the  delightful  retreat  of  Belle-Chasse,  the  Revolution  broke 
out.  The  Duke  of  Orleans  and  his  two  sons,  the  Dukes  of  Chartres 
and  Montpensier,  warmly  espoused  its  principles.  Madame  de  Genlis 
was  then  an  admirer  of  the  Constituent  Assembly, — Pamela  partici- 
pated in  her  enthusiasm  for  liberty,  and  every  Sunday  the  members 
of  that  Assembly  met  at  Belle-Chasse.  Barrere,  Petion,  and  David, 
were  constantly  at  her  soirees,  and  there,  in  the  presence  of  these 
young  girls,  seriously  discussed  the  important  questions  of  the  day. 
Pamela,  abounding  in  beauty  and  every  mental  accomplishment,  had 
just  reached  her  fifteenth  year,  and  the  Duke  of  Orleans  had  ordered 
his  notar}-  to  draw  out  a  settlement  of  1,500  livres  a  year  upon  her. 
The  notary  declared  that  the  orphan  was  not  competent  to  receive 
the  anniiit}',  unless  she  had  a  guardian.  "  Well,  then,"  replied  the 
Duke,  "  let  herself  choose  a  guardian — enough  of  deputies  come  to 
Belle-Chasse,  so  that  she  can  have  no  difficulty  in  selecting  one."  On 
the  Sunday  following,  the  Duke's  answer  was  communicated  to  Pamela, 
at  a  moment  when  the  usual  party  had  assembled.  "  I  have  not  much 
time  to  reflect."  she  said,  "  but  if  citizen  Barrere  would  favour  me  by 
becoming  my  guardian,  I  should  make  choice  of  him."  Barrel  e  gladly 
assented,  and  all  the  formalities  of  the  contract  were  soon  executed. 
When  the  Constituent  Assembly  had  terminated  its  glorious  labours, 
Madame  de  Genlis  proceeded  to  England,  with  Mademoiselle  D'Orleans 
and  Pamela,  and  attended  by  two  deputies,  Petion  and  Voidel.  It 
was  then  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  saw  Pamela.  The  brilliancy  of  her 
beaut\%  the  graces  of  her  mind,  and  the  free  expression  of  her  feelings 
of  liberty,  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  young  Irish  peer,  and  when 
Madame  de  Genlis,  alarmed  at  the  turn  things  were  taking  in  France, 
retired  with  her  pupils  to  Tournay,  where  the  presence  of  Dumouriez 
and  of  the  Duke  de  Chartres  assured  them  of  a  safe  asylum,  Lord 
Fitzgerald  accompanied  them,  and  soon  became  the  husband  of  Pannla. 
After  the  loss  of  her  husband,  this  poor  lady  experienced  the  heart 
and  hope-chilling  effects  of  cooling  regard  and  declining  friendship. 
She  went  on  the  Continent,  and  feeling  herself  neglected  and  embar- 
rassed, she  forgot  her  husband's  memory,  and  formed  an  unhappy  alli- 
ance with  an  American,  then  established  in  France,  of  the  name  of  Pit- 
cairn,  ''  not  the  twentieth  part  the  tithe  of  her  precedent  lord."  One 
of  Lord  Edward's  grand  children,  a  lad  of  fifteen  or  sixteen,  bears  the 


238  MEMOIRS  OF 

should  so  happen  that  my  sister  was  to  come  to  town  before 
Friday,  on  which  day  I  wish  to  set  out.  But  I  would  by  no 
means  wish  her  to  hurry  in  the  least  on  that  account  ;  only  let 
me  know  your  plan,  as  near  as  you  can,  and  I  will  endeavour 
to  accommodate  mine  to  it  as  well  as  I  can.  If  my  sister 
don't  come  so  soon,  I  would  go  and  come  back  again,  and  could 
leave  Lady  Edward  here  with  Henrietta,  taking  care  first  to 
see  the  Duke  of  Portland,  and  obtain  his  approbation  ;  but  I 
believe  that  now  they  will  let  her  do  as  she  pleases,  at  least  I 
cannot  see  why  they  should  not,  especially  as,  from  what  I  can 
see,  she  behaves  with  the  most  strict  propriety.  Adieu,  my 
dear  sir  :  assure  my  dear  sister  of  my  kindest  and  most  affec- 
tionate love,  and  tell  all  her  daughters  with  you  how  sincerely 
I  sympathize  in  their  sorrows. . 

"Ever  yours,  most  truly, 

"KiCHMOND,  &c." 

FROM  LADY  LOUISA  CONOLLY  TO  THE  HONOURABLE  JOHX  LEESOX.* 

"  Castletown,  June  13th,  17 98. 
"dear  sir, 

"I  received  both  your  letters,  and  acquainted  the  lord 
lieutenant  with  the  neglect  in  Mr.  Cook's  office,  as  I  thought 

most  striking  resemblance  to  him,  and  all  the  amiable  qualities  of  that 
most  noble-hearted  being,  his  daughter,  the  mother  of  tlie  boy  I 
allude  to,  seems  to  have  inherited.  In  the  year  1820,  I  saw  Ladv  Ed- 
ward at  Toulouse,  where  she  was  then  living,  (apart,  I  believe,  from 
her  second  husband,)  in  a  very  retired  manner,  and,  it  seemed  to  me, 
in  restricted  circumstances.  She  died  in  the  latter  part  of  Xovember, 
1831,  in  very  inditierent  circumstances,  in  retired  lodgings,  in  the  Rue 
Richepanse,  at  Paris.  By  her  second  marriage  she  had  a  daughter, 
who  was  mani- d  in  Xew  York,  and  living  there  at  the  period  of  my 
first  visit  to  tim:  place,  in  1835. — Jladdens  United  Irishmen. 

*  On  the  back  of  this  letter  is  the  following  memorandum,  in  the 
handwriting  of  Lord  Henry  : — "  From  Lady  Louisa  Conolly — in  con- 
sequence of  a  complaint  made  to  her,  of  the  indecent  neglect  in  Mr. 
Cooke's  office,  b}-  Mr.  Leeson,  A  guard  was  to  have  attended  at  New- 
gate, the  night  of  my  poor  brother's  burial,  in  order  to  provide  against 
all  interruplion  from  the  different  guards  and  patrols  in  the  streets  : — 
it  never  arrived,  which  caused  the  funeral  to  be  several  times  stopped 
in  its  way,  so  that  the  burial  did  not  take  place  till  hear  two  in  the 
morning,  and  the  people  attending  obliged  to  stay  in  the  church  until 
a  pass  could  be  procured  to  enlarge  them." 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  239 

it  riglit  that  he  should  know  it,  to  prevent  mischief  for  the  fa- 
ture  on  such  occasions,  Tne  grief  1  have  been  in,  and  still  do 
feel,  is  so  much  above  any  other  sensation,  that  the  want  of 
respect  to  my  feelings  on  that  melancholy  procession  was  not 
worth  any  notice.  1  should  have  answered  your  second  letter, 
but  that  I  expected  from  it  to  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you 
here  yesterday.  The  enclosed  letter  to  General  Wilford 
(which  1  have  left  open  for  you  to  read)  was  to  have  gone  to 
Kildare  by  a  servant  of  Mr.  Conolly's,  five  days  ago.  But 
as  he  changed  his  mind  about  sending  there,  I  send  it  now  to 
you,  and  am,  "  Dear  sir, 

"  Your  humble  servant, 

''  L.  O'COXOLLY. 
FROM    LADY    SARAH    XAPIER   TO    THE    DUKE    OF    RICHMOND. 

"  Castletown,  June  27 th,  1798. 

*'  It  is  impossible,  my  dearest  brother,  to  find  expressions 
suitable  to  the  extraordinary  sensations  occasioned  by  the 
uncommon  events  that  daily  lill  my  thoughts, — a  succession  of 
anxious  doubts,  fears,  anger,  grief,  indignation.  Public  cala- 
mities touching  each  person  individually  ;  private  concerns 
awakening  all  one's  feeling  ;  the  calls  of  honour,  duty,  mixed 
with  pity  and  deep  concern  for  the  fate  of  thousands, — all  to- 
gether form  such  a  chaos,  that,  with  double  joy,  I  catch  at 
those  few  pleasing  ideas  that  come  along  with  sorrow.  Your 
generous,  tender,  and  noble  conduct  towards  all  our  afflicted 
family,  but  in  particular  to  Lady  Edward,  has  made  an  im- 
pression on  my  mind  of  the  most  consoling  nature.  It  brings 
forth  all  those  qualities  your  good  heart  possessed  into  their 
full  lustre,  and  they  not  only  act  as  a  balm  to  many  a  wounded 
heart  at  -this  juncture,  but  secure  to  yourself  those  happiest, 
best  of  feelings,  which  no  power  on  earth  can  rob  you  of, — -that 
inward  blessing  of  self-approbation  that  will  make  your  days 
calm  and  content  amid  all  these  storms. 

"  I  have  hitherto  only  heard  a  general  exclamation  of  grati- 
tude from  the  family, — the  Duke  of  Leinster  in  particular, — and 
that  Lady  Edward  was  actually  gone  to  Goodwood,  from  which 
I  augur  so  much  good  to  her  health  and  spirits  and  feelings, 
that  I  trust  the  time  is  not  far  off  before  you  will  be  rewarded 
by  success  in  your  generous  solicitude  to  comfort  the  afflicted. 


240  MEMOIRS    OF 

And  wlien  you  know  her,  my  dear  brother,  I  will  venture  to 
assert  you  will  not  tliiuk  your  pains  bestowed  on  an  unworthy 
or  . ungrateful  object.  She  is  a  character,  but  it  is  noble, 
elevated,  o^reat,  and  not  easilv  understood  bv  those  who  level 
all  down  to  common  worldly  rules.  According  to  the  observa- 
tions you  must  have  made,  in  reading  and  experience  of  cha- 
racters, you  will  find  hers  susceptible  of  all  that  belongs  to  a 
superior  one.  Uneven  in  strength  of  body  and  mind,  she  rises 
or  sinks  suddenly  with  illness  and  with  affections.  She 
launches  out  into  almost  ravings  from  her  lively  imagination, — 
sees  things  in  too  strong  lights,^ — cannot  bear  violent  checks, 
but  is  soothed  into  reason  by  tenderness  with  ease.  I  know 
no  human  being  more  formed  by  your  tender,  patient  perse- 
verance to  bring  her  poor  distracted  mind  to  composure  ;  and 
your  talents  for  cheerfully  occupying  her  thoughts  will,  I  doubt 
not,  chime  in  with  her  natural  youthful  vivacity  so  well,  as  to 
give  you  full  powers  of  consolation  over  her  mind  in  due  time. 

"  Alas  !  would  I  could  think  your  success  as  sure  with  our 
dear,  dear  sister  ; — how  different  must  your  system  be  with 
her  !  Yet,  even  in  that  task,  I  know  nobody,  next  to  Louisa., 
so  fit  to  undertake  it,  or  so  likely  to  succeed.  Your  affection- 
ate manner  to  my  sister  will  have  all  the  weight  which  nature 
gives,  and,  added  to  that,  the  pleasing  powers  of  unexpected 
tenderness; — for,  although  she  knows  you  love  her,  yet  she  has 
not  been  so  much  in  the  habit  of  receiving  such  unequivocal 
proofs  of  your  kindness,  as  her  grief  now  produces  in  your 
most  unwearied  attention  to  her  and  all  hers.  I  am  sure  she 
will  feel  all  these  sentiments,  because  I  anticipate  them  in  my 
own  mind  as  hers,  and  feel  a  comfort  in  the  contemplation  of 
what  hers  must  be. 

"  I  thank  God  and  you  for  the  least  gleam  of  sunshine  to 
my  beloved  sister  :  she  is  my  first  object  ;  but  how  many, 
many  more  wander  round  my  imagination  like  ghosts  !  The 
poor  Duke  of  Leinster — how  my  heart  bleeds  for  him  !  I  am 
even  now  interrupted  by  the  sad  tidings  of  his  last  and  still 
deeper  misfortune  being  just  at  hand.*  God  grant  him  forti- 
tude. He  has  great  feeling,  little  energy,  and  an  accumulation 
of  distress  beyond  the  common  lot  of  man.  His  lost  brother, 
and  the  entire  ruin  of  his  fortune  (perhaps  for  ever),  are  the 

*  The  death  of  the  Dutchess. 


LORD  EDWARD  FITZGERALD.  241 

preliminaries  to  his  sorrows  :  deeply  will  he  feel  the  loss.  No 
mortal  can  pity  him  more  than  you,  for  his  dear  wife's  attach- 
ment was  of  that  nature  never  to  be  forgotten  ;  she  was  his 
■friend,  his  counsellor,  with  an  uncommon  share  of  sense,  and 
warmth  of  heart  in  all  that  concerned  him,  that  made  her  the 
haven  to  which  he  looked  in  all  distresses  ;  she  soothed  and 
calmed  his  griefs,  pointed  out  remedies,  and,  by  occupying  him 
in  his  tender  care  of  her  sorrows,  made  him  forget  his  own. 
He  will  now  sink,  I  fear,  into  a  depth  of  affliction  from  which 
additional  ruin  will  start  up.  The  only  chance  he  has,  would 
be  what  his  nature,  I  much  fear,  can  never  be  roused  to  under- 
take,— the  immediate  arrangement  of  business.  The  county 
of  Kildare,  in  which  is  all  his  property,  is  almost  desolate, 
and  growing  worse  every  day.  The  peculiar  marked  object 
has  been  to  ruin  his  tenants,  and  the  insurgents  will  now  finish 
it  ;  for  although  personal  attachment  to  him  makes  them  very 
anxious  to  avoid  it,  yet  necessity  forces  them  to  take  what  they 
can  get.  The  cruel  hardship  put  on  his  tenants,  preferably  to 
all  others,  has  driven  them  to  despair,  and  they  join  the  insur- 
gents, saying,  '  It's  better  to  die  with  a  pike  in  my  hand  than 
be  shot  like  a  dog  at  my  work,  or  see  my  children  faint  for 
want  of  food  before  my  eyes  •/  from  hence  you  may  guess  he 
will  get  no  rents. 

"  Private  distresses  divert  one's  thoughts  from  public  evil, 
yet  you  see  how  it  brings  one  back  to  it  on  every  occasion. 
A  servant  is  waiting  for  this  letter  :  I  therefore  will  only  add 
some  slight  account  of  our  situation,  in  case  you  do  not  hear 
of  it  from  others.  The  victory,  as  it  is  called,  in  Wexford, 
has  only  secured  the  town,  and  killed  five  thousand, — a  lament- 
able victory  ;  yet,  if  it  tends  to  save  more  lives,  it  is  success  ; 
but  how  far  it  does  do  that,  no  mortal  can  yet  decide.  They 
say  (for  I  assert  nothing)  that  there  were  thirty  thousand 
there  ; — call  it  twenty,  then  fifteen  thousand  have  escaped, 
and  are  now,  as  I  to-day  hear  from  Celbridge  (where  I  fear 
our  intelligence  is  too  good),  at  Timahor,  a  hill  that  forms  a 
kind  of  peninsula  in  this  end  of  the  Bog  of  Allen.  We  knew 
of  many  thousands  between  Timahor  and  Celbridge  for  this 
month  past  ;  for  Colonel  jSTapier  has,  by  his  personal  atten- 
tion, kept  them  off  from  Celbridge  by  odd  means,  too  long  to 
explain,  but  which,  being  a  ruse  de  guerre,  which  they  did  not 
expect,  has  answered  the  purpose  ;  and  as  they  waited  for  the 


242  MEMOIRS    OF 

event  of  Wexford,  it  could  be  done.  But  now  I  fancy  it  will 
be  the  seat  of  the  next  insurrection  ;  it  is  nine  miles  from 
hence,  and  all  their  outposts  within  three  or  five  of  Celbridge. 
'•  What  Lord  CornwaUis  will  do,  I  cannot  say,  but  probably 
he  will  make  some  military  arrangement,  and  this  camp  at 
Timahor  a2:ain  be  routed.  But  what  is  more  alarming]:  is,  that 
in  the  south,  and  in  the  Queen's  County,  they  start  up,  so 
that  our  troops  will  never  be  sufficient  to  prevent  insurrec- 
tions :  though,  if  well  managed,  I  have  no  doubt  they  will 
drive  away  the  multitudes  by  a  flying  camp  pursuing  them  in 
time,  and  that  it  will  never  amount  to  a  rebellion^  which  the 
Camden  government  have  so  imprudently  called  it. 

^ix  ^t^  ^^  ^^  ^^  ^^ 

"  I  hope  some  good  will  arise  from  *  *'s  disgrace  ;  indeed 
it  cannot  fail,  for  there  will  be  some  system,  and  the  violence 
of  the  troops  requires  to  be  directed  to  useful  exertions,  and 
not  wasted  on  the  innocent  as  well  as  the  guilty.  Dublin  is 
well  guarded  by  a  very  fine  body  of  yeomanry,  but  it  is  not 
safe  to  move  them.  You  send  us  no  militia,  which  is  natural 
enough,  and  what  are  we  to  do  ?  The  small  bodies  of  army 
quartered  every  where  to  stop  passes  towards  the  capital  are 
harassed  to  death  by  want  of  sleep,  and  by  going  about  like 
a  young  dog  in  a  rabbit  warren,  here  and  there,  flying  from 
spot  to  spot,  and  catching  little  or  nothing  ;  for  all  those  cal- 
culations of  hundreds  which  you  see  are  commonly  from  six 
to  ten  or  twelve  men  killed,  and  four  or  five  poor  innocent 
wretches  shot  at  in  the  fields,  and  afterward  bayoneted,  to  put 
them  out  of  pain  ; — this  a  soldier  told  my  sister. 

"  Adieu,  my  dearest  brother  :  I  will  in  general  terms  re- 
quest our  most  affectionate  love  from  hence  to  Goodwood  inha- 
bitants, and  to  yourself  in  particular.  My  husband  gains 
strength  in  proportion  to  fatigue  and  thinness,  I  think.  I 
hope  it  will  not  essentially  hurt  him  :  he  made  me  come  here 
with  my  children,  to  clear  our  house  for  action,  as  it  is  the 
first  to  fall  on  if  they  come  this  way  ;  and  we  expect  them 
every  day.  My  dear  sister  is  as  usual  much  the  better  for  the 
constant  employment  of  doing  good,  and  much  has  she  now 
to  exert  that  talent  on.  Mr.  Conolly  is  at  home,  well  guard- 
ed, and  wishing  to  do  good,  but  knows  not  how.     Adieu. 

"  Ever,  most  affectionately, 

"  Mv  dearest  brother,  yours, 

"  S.  N." 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  243 

FROM  LADY  LOUISA  CONOLLY  TO  WILLIAM  OGILVIE,  ESQ. 

"  Castletown,  Jul}-  10th,  1798. 
"  MY  DEAR  MR.  OGILVIE, 

"  I  was  most  truly  thankful  to  you  for  yours  of  the  10th 
of  June  from  Coleshill,  and  would  have  answered  the  business 
part  of  it  directly,  had  it  been  necessary  ;  but  as  dear  Henry 
is  left  sole  executor  to  the  will,  and  that  he  had  a  copy  of  it, 
there  was  nothing  left  for  me  to  do.  You  must  also  have 
heard  from  him,  that  the  dear  remains  were  deposited  by  Mr 
Bourne  in  St.  Werburgh  church,  until  the  times  would  permit 
of  their  being  removed  to  the  family  vault  at  Kildare.  I 
ordered  every  thing  upon  that  occasion  that  appeared  to  me 
to  be  right,  considering  all  the  heart-breaking  circumstances 
belonging  to  that  event  ;  and  I  was  guided  by  the  feelings 
which  I  am  persuaded  our  beloved  angel  would  have  had  upon 
the  same  occasion,  had  he  been  to  direct  for  me,  as  it  fell  to 
my  lot  to  do  for  him.  I  well  knew,  that  to  run  the  smallest 
risk  of  shedding  one  drop  of  blood,  by  any  riot  intervening 
upon  that  mournful  occasion,  would  be  the  thing  of  all  others 
that  would  vex  him  most  ;  and  knowing  also  how  much  he 
despised  all  outward  show,  I  submitted  to  what  I  thought 
prudence  reciuired.  The  impertinence  and  neglect  (in  Mr. 
Cook's  office)  of  orders  (notwithstanding  Lord  Castlereagh 
had  arranged  every  thing  as  I  wished  it),  had  nearly  caused 
what  I  had  taken  such  pains  to  avoid.  However,  ha})pily, 
nothing  happened  ;  but  I  informed  Lord  Camden  of  the  neg- 
lect, for  the  sake  of  others,  and  to  prevent  mischief  on  other 
occasions,  where  a  similar  neglect  might  have  such  bad  conse- 
quences. You  may  easily  believe  that  my  grief  absorbed  all 
other  feelings,  and  Mr.  "^  *  is  too  insignificant  even  to  be 
angry  at.  At  any  other  time  than  this  his  impertinence  might 
amuse  one, — but  now  it  passes  unnoticed. 

"  Mr.  Stone  is  an  officer  belonging  to  our  regiment.  I  have 
never  been  able  to  see  him  since,  though  I  long  for  that  satis- 
faction ;  but  previous  to  our  dear  angel's  departure  from  this 
life,  Mr.  Stone  was  forced  to  join  his  regiment,  wliich  has 
been  at  Kilcullen  ever  since  :  and  the  last  two  davs  he  was 
attended  by  a  surgeon  whose  manner  and  appearance  I  liked. 
But  I  shall  never  lose  sight  of  Mr.  Stone,  or  of  being  of  all 
the  use  I  can  to  him  for  the  friendship  he  showed  my  beloved 


244:  MEMOIRS    OF 

Edward, — my  beloved  Edward,  I  may  well  say,  for,  indeed, 
my  dear  Mr.  Ogiivie,  the  sorrow  I  feel  is  beyond  what  I  could 
well  have  imagined,  and  I  own  to  you  that  I  do  not  grow 
better.  The  compUeated  scene  of  distress  that  involves  our 
family  is  perpetually  before  my  eyes  ;  and  that  of  my  dearest 
sister,  whom  I  love  so  much  better  than  myself,  grieves  my 
heart.  Your  account  of  her  was  as  good  as  I  could  expect, 
and  I  hear  that  she  bore  the  meeting  at  Goodwood  without 
any  bad  effect  to  her  health.  I  long  to  hear  of  her  again, 
and  beg,  my  dear  Mr.  Ogiivie,  that  you  will  write  to  me.  I 
won't  write  to  her  myself,  because  I  really  can't.  It  is  so  im- 
possible to  write  on  subjects  that  tear  one's  very  heartstrings 
asunder,  and  on  no  other,  I  am  sure,  could  we  write.  Her 
heart  and  mine  are  like  one,  from  the  affection  we  bear  each 
other  ;  and,  therefore,  she  must  be  sensible  of  all  that  passes 
in  mine,  without  my  undergoing  the  painful  task  of  writing  it. 
But  I  wish  greatly  to  hear  of  her  ;  therefore,  pray  write  to 
me,  and  tell  me  about  the  rest  of  the  sad  afflicted  family. 

"  The  poor  Duke  of  Leinster  and  his  dear  girls  go  to  ray 
heart, — exclusive  of  my  own  regret  for  that  most  truly  worthy 
dear  dutchess,  whose  mind  I  know  to  have  been  one  of  the 
purest  that  ever  mortal  had,  and  fit  for  heaven.  On  her  own 
account  I  hardly  know  how  to  regret  her,  for  the  very  misera- 
ble state  of  her  nerves,  at  all  times,  deprived  her  of  enjoyment 
here  ;  and  her  well-spent  life,  with  the  unceasing  desire  of  do- 
ing what  was  right,  certainly  always  gave  her  an  indifference 
about  living,  that  at  times,  I  have  thought,  amounted  to  a 
wish  of  its  being  at  an  end.  But  her  loss  to  her  family  is  irre- 
parable ;  for  a  better  mother  never  existed,  nor  one  who  has 
instilled  better  principles  than  she  did  into  her  children.  The 
three  eldest  I  am  convinced  will  never  lose  the  good  effects  of 
them,  and  the  three  youngest  I  trust  will  profit  by  their  exam- 
ple. I  am  going  to  town  to  see  them — Ceciha  has  not  been 
well,  but  I  hope  there  is  no  cause  for  alarm.  The  situation 
of  the  country  has  separated  us  sadly,  and  it  was  thought 
more  advisable  for  them  to  stav  at  Leinster-house,  where  the 
yeomanry  corps  keep  guard,  so  that  I  believe  they  are  in  the 
best  possible  place.  I  shall  venture  to  persuade  poor  Bess  to 
come  here  for  a  week,  as  her  spirits  want  help,  for  she  is  deeply 
afflicted  at  the  loss  of  her  dear  mother. 

"  I  have  been  interrupted  two  or  three  times  in  the  course 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  245 

of  writing  my  letter,  and  that  not  without  agitation  ;  for 
although  I  make  it  a  rule  to  believe  as  little  as  possible  all 
that  I  hear,  yet  these  histories  of  cruelty  I  cannot  at  all  times 
avoid,  I  confess  candidly  that  I  hear  of  them  on  both  sides, 
and  they  equally  thrill  me  with  horror  ;  but  I  am  determined 
to  pm'sue,  as  long  as  I  possibly  can,  the  plan  of  standing  my 
ground  ;  for  I  really  do  not  apprehend  personal  danger,  but 
suiferings.  The  miseries  of  the  country  pursue  me  day  and 
night,  for  I  have  at  times  most  terrible  dreams.  Lord  Corn- 
walhs's  coming  at  first  raised  me  ;  his  character  has  always 
been  so  good,  and  his  own  sentiments  upon  his  arrival  seemed 
so  calculated  for  restoring  us  to  peace,  that  a  cheering  ray 
pierced  through  the  dreadful  clouds  that  are  hanging  over  us. 
But  alas  !  I  hear  that  our  cabinet  are  all  against  him, — what 
can  he  do  ?  and  yet,  if  he  leaves  us,  I  am  afraid  we  are  un- 
done. It  is  astonishing  to  see  the  veneration  his  name  creates  ; 
and  it  is  my  firm  belief  that,  if  all  sides  would  submit  to  him 
as  an  arbitrator,  he  could  still  save  us.  What  could  be  so 
wise  as  trusting  to  an  honest  man,  an  experienced  military 
man,*  and,  above  all  an  unprejudiced  man,  who  cannot  have 
imbibed  any  of  our  misguided  passions  ?  All  the  Irish  neces- 
sarily must  be  prejudiced  at  this  moment  ;  suffering,  as  we  all 
do,  from  various  causes,  it  becomes  extremely  difficult  to  steer 
the  little  bark  of  reason,  justice,  and  humanity,  that  yet  re- 
mains among  us,  through  the  ocean  of  fear,  mistrust,  treachery, 
cruelty,  and  revenge  : — to  which  catalogue  I  may  add,  an  ex- 
traordinary and  unaccountable  phrensy  that  seems  to  have  in- 
fluenced the  lower  class  ;  for  not  one  in  a  hundred  have  an 
idea  what  they  are  fighting  for.  However,  that  part  of  the 
people  would  be  in  our  favour,  if  ever  we  were  restored  to 
peace  ;  for  the  same  levity  that  brought  them  to  this  pitch 
would  make  them  forget  it,  when  the  thing  was  once  over, 
which,  if  originating  from  any  fixed  principle,  would  not  be 
the  case. 

"Our  house  is  a  perfect  garrison,  eighteen  soldiers  sleep  in 

*  It  was  the  opinion  of  Sir  John  Moore,  whose  sincere  love  of  liberty 
no  one  can  doubt,  that  if  ever  there  was  a  case  in  which  the  emphjj-- 
ment  of  such  an  officer  as  dictator  could  be  desired,  it  was  that  f)f  the 
state  of  Ireland, — one  honest,  strong,  and  uncompromising  hand  being 
alone  adequate,  in  his  opinion,  to  the  application  of  such  remedies  as 
she  requires. 


246  MEMOIRS    OF 

our  saloon,  and  we  are  all  blocked  up  and  shut  up,  except  by 
the  hall  door,  and  one  door  to  the  kitchen-yard,  and  are  fre- 
quently ordered  all  into  the  house,  upon  the  alarm  being  given 
of  the  rebels  being  near  Celbridge.  Thank  God,  they  have 
never  been  in  a  body  since  the  military  company  came  into  it, 
or  else  there  must  have  been  some  battle,  wliich  is  the  thinsr  I 
dread.  Lord  Cornvvallis  would  have  a  proclamation  inviting 
them  to  come  in  ;  and  although  it  has  not  been  as  decided  as 
I  am  sure  he  wished  it  to  be,  yet  many  are  dailv  comins;  iu  to 
Mr.  Conolly,  begging  protection,  which  you  may  imagine  he 
gives  them  with  the  greatest  pleasure.  I  have  opportunities 
of  conversing  with  these  poor  people,  from  whom  I  find  that 
many  are  forced  into  the  rebellion,  and  of  course  are  grievously 
to  be  pitied.  I  verily  believe  that  many  of  them  are  heartily 
tired  of  it.  My  love  to  all  at  Goodwood.  And  pray  tell  me 
something  of  my  dearest  brother,  whose  kindness  I  am  sure, 
does  you  all  so  much  good.     Adieu. 

"  Believe  me  aflfectionately  yours, 

"  L.  COXOLLY." 

FROM   THE    DUTCHESS    DOWAGER    OF    LEIXSTER   TO    LORD    HENRY 

FITZGERALD. 

"GoodTvood,  July  IT,  1798, 
Fatal  Yeai"! 

"  We  are  neither  of  us  in  a  state  at  present,  my  beloved 
Henry,  to  touch  on  a  subject  so  heart-rending  and  distracting 
as  all  that  has  passed  within  these  last  three  months  of  wretch- 
edness ;  but  I  am  sure  you  will  be  glad  to  know  from  myself 
that  I  am  much  better,  thanks  to  Almighty  God  !  and  in  pro- 
portion as  I  look  around  for  comfort  is  the  wish  I  feel  of  see- 
ing you  next  week.  •  The  Leinsters  are  asked  to  come  ;  but, 
at  that  time,  it  would  make  too  many.  They  will  probably 
not  stay  longer  than  a  week,  and  then  I  hope  to  be  blessed 
with  a  sight  of  you.  My  brother  has  often  asked  why  you 
don't  come  ;  and  the  dear  little  interesting  Pamela,  who  must 
ever  be  an  object,  dear,  precious,  and  sacred  to  all  our  hearts, 
has  often  expressed  a  desire  of  seeing  you.  Hitherto  I  have 
dreaded  its  affecting  you  too  much,  but  as  I  hope  your  mind 
is  more  composed,  you  might  perhaps  be  better  able  to  bear 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  247 

it.  This  you  must  judge  of  yourself,  and  when  you  Ciin  come, 
I  hope  you  will. 

"  1  wish  for  your  advice  and  opinion  in  regard  to  dear  Pa- 
mela's future  destination,  as  I  know  it  will  in  great  part  be 
determined  by  that  which  I  give  her,  and  I  am  really  afraid 
of  recommending  any  particular  plan  to  her  for  that  very  rea- 
son ;  but  I  think  we  could  talk  it  over  more  comfortably  toge- 
ther. There  is  no  need  of  hurry,  for  she  is  welcome  I  am 
sure,  to  stay  here  as  long  as  she  likes  ;  my  brother  is  extremely 
fond  of  her,  and  enters  into  her  situation  with  parental  solici- 
tude. Indeed  it  is  one  that  must  move  all  hearts,  and  claims 
all  our  protection,  tenderness,  and  attention.  You,  my  dear 
Henry,  have  been  the  chosen  person  for  this  duty  ;  but  we  are 
all  ready  to  share  it  with  you.  She  seems  at  present  much 
undecided  about  going  to  Hamburgh  :  Mr.  Matheuson's  press- 
ing letters,  the  cheapness  of  living,  and  being  perhaps  more 
in  the  way  of  seeing  those  who  might  give  her  information  as 
to  the  small  chance  she  may  have  of  recovering  her  property, 
are  all  inducements  to  go.  On  the  other  hand,  she  hates 
leaving  his  family  to  whom  she  is  naturally  drawn  by  affection. 
She  hates  the  appearance  as  well  as  the  reality  of  separating 
herself  from  us,  and  wishes  us  to  witness  the  propriety  and 
good  sense  with  which  she  always  has  and  always  will  guide 
all  her  actions,  and  which  the  ill-nature  that  has  prevailed 
against  her  makes  particularly  necessary  in  her  case  than  in 
any  other.  She  is  a  charming  creature,  and  tlie  more  one  is 
acquainted  with  her  real  character,  the  more  one  esteems  and 
loves  it ; — but,  even  were  she  not  so,  he  adored  her  :  he  is 
gone !  This  is  an  indissoluble  chain,  that  must  ever  bind  her 
to  our  hearts.  But  here  let  me  stop,  lest  I  break  the  resolu- 
tion I  made  at  the  beginning  of  my  letter. 

"  Mr.  Leeson,  I  understand,  has  been  with  you,  and  you 
may  now  have  it  in  yoar  power  to  know  a  little,  whether  she 
has  the  power  of  making  a  choice  as  to  her  motions,  for  they 
must  greatly  depend  on  money.  We  are  too  poor  to  give  her 
any  assistance,  and  I  believe  it  is  pretty  much  the  case  with 
the  whole  family,  who  at  any  other  time  would  have  done  it 
with  pleasure  ;  but  it  is  now  quite  out  of  the  question,  and, 
therefore,  to  avoid  expense  must  be  her  first  object.  This  she 
is  very  sensible  of,  and  it  throws  her  into  irresolution,  which 
is  always  an  unpleasant  state,  and  oftener  brought  on  by  the 


248  MEMOIRS    OF 

want  of  money,  I  believe,  with  most  people,  than  by  any  other 
sort  of  distress  whatever.  It  is  very  much  ours  at  present,  and 
I  have  not  the  least  guess  where  we  shall  be  the  remainder  of 
this  year.  I  am  sorry  for  others,  but  as  to  myself  it  is  per- 
fectly indifferent — all,  all  alike  !  To  see  those  I  love  pleased 
is  the  only  thing  that  ever  can  have  the  power  of  cheering 
me.     To  that  I  am  not  insensible. 

"  Adieu,  my  dearest  Henry  :  remember  me  most  kindly  to 
your  dear  wife.  I  hope  she  is  well,  and  will  write  often  to  the 
girls  accounts  of  you  both,  and  of  the  dear  boys.  God  bless 
you  all.  "  E.  L." 

"  I  enclose  this  to  William,  to  save  postage,  as  I  understand 
he  is  with  you.     Poor  dear  William  !  give  my  love  to  him." 

Though  it  would  be  impossible  to  adduce  any  more  con- 
vincing proof  of  the  amiableness  of  Lord  Edward's  private 
life  than  what  the  interest  in  his  fate  evinced  throughout  these 
letters  affords,  it  would  be  injustice  not  to  cite  also  some  of 
those  public  tributes  to  his  character  which  friends  and  ene- 
mies of  his  political  principles  have  alike  concurred  in  pay- 

ino'  • 

"  I  knew  Fitzgerald  but  very  little,  but  I  honour  and  ven- 
erate his  character,  which  he  has  uniformly  sustained,  and,  in 
this  last  instance,  illustrated.  What  miserable  wretches  by 
his  side  are  the  gentry  of  Ireland  !  I  would  rather  be  Fitz- 
gerald as  he  is  now,  wounded  in  his  dungeon,  than  Pitt  at  the 
head  of  the  British  empire.  What  a  noble  fellow  !  Of  the 
first  family  in  Ireland,  with  an  easy  fortune,  a  beautiful  wife, 
and  a  family  of  lovely  children,  the  certainty  of  a  splendid 
appointment  under  government,  if  he  would  condescend  to 
support  their  measures,  he  has  devoted  himself  wholly  to  the 
emancipation  of  his  country,  and  sacrificed  every  thing  to  it, 
even  to  his  blood." — Diary  of  Theobald  Wolfe  Tone. 

"  As  I  suspected,  the  brave  and  unfortunate  Fitzgerald  was 
meditating  an  attack  on  the  capital,  which  was  to  have  taken 
place  a  few  days  after  that  on  which  he  was  arrested.  He 
is  since  dead,  in  prison  ;  his  career  is  finished  gloriously  for 
himself,  and  whatever  be  the  events,  his  memory  will  live  for 
ever  iu  the  heart  of  every  honest  Irishman." — Ibid. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  249 

"  Sir  J.  Parnell.  Mr.  Emmet,  while  voii  and  the  execu- 
Live  were  philosophizhig,  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  was  arming 
and  disciplining  the  people. 

"  Emmet.  Lord  Edward  was  a  military  man,  and  if  he 
was  doing  so,  he  probably  thought  that  was  the  way  in  which 
he  could  be  most  useful  to  the  country  ;  but  I  am  sure,  that 
if  those  with  whom  he  acted  were  convinced  that  the  griev- 
ances of  the  people  were  redressed,  and  that  force  was  become 
unnecessary,  he  would  have  been  persuaded  to  drop  all  arming 
and  disciplining. 

"■  Mr.  J.  C.  Bcresford.  I  knew  Lord  Edward  well,  and 
always  found  him  very  obstinate, 

"  Emmet.  I  knew  Lord  Edward  right  well,  and  have  done 
a  great  deal  of  business  with  him,  and  have  always  found, 
.  when  he  had  a  reliance  on  the  integrity  and  talents  of  the 
person  he  acted  with,  he  was  one  of  the  most  persuadable  men 
alive  ;  but  if  he  thought  a  man  meant  dishonestly  or  unfairly 
by  him,  he  was  as  obstinate  as  a  mule." — Report  of  Evidence 
before  tJie  Secret  Committee  of  the  House  of  Commons. 

"  The  Irish  nation  could  not  sustain  a  greater  misfortune  in 
the  person  of  any  one  individual,  than  befell  it  in  the  loss  of 
Fitzgerald  at  that  critical  moment.  Even  his  enemies,  and 
he  had  none  but  those  of  his  country,  allowed  him  to  possess 
distinguished  military  talents.  With  these,  with  unquestioned 
intrepidity,  republicanism,  and  devotion  to  Ireland,  with  popu- 
larity that  gave  him  unbounded  influence,  and  integrity  that 
made  him  worthy  the  highest  trust,  had  he  been  present  in 
the  Irish  camp  to  organize  discipline,  and  give  to  the  valour 
of  his  country  a  scientific  direction,  we  should  have  seen  the 
slaves  of  monarchy  fly  before  the  republicans  of  Ireland,  as 
they  did  before  the  patriots  of  America.  And  if  at  last  the 
tears  of  his  countrymen  had  been  constrained  to  lament  his 
fate,  they  would  have  been  received  on  the  laurels  of  his 
tomb." — Dr.  MacNevin. 

"  If  Lord  Edward  had  been  actuated,  in  political  life,  by 
dishonourable  ambition,  he  had  only  to  cling  to  his  great 
family  connexions  and  parliamentary  influence.  They  unques- 
tionably, would  have  advanced  his  fortunes  and  gratified  his 
desires.  The  voluntary  sacrifices  he  made,  and  the  magnani- 
mous manner  in  which  he  devoted  himself  to  the  independence 
of  Ireland,  are  incontestable  proofs  of  the  purity  of  his  soul." 
—Ibid. 


250  MEMOIRS    OF 

"  Lord  Edward  had  served  with  reputation,  in  the  nine- 
teenth regiment,  during  a  great  part  of  the  American  war, 
and  on  many  occasions  had  displayed  great  valour  and  con- 
siderable abilities  as  an  officer.  When  in  the  armv,  he  was 
considered  as  a  man  of  honour  and  humanity,  and  was  much 
esteemed  by  his  brother  officers  for  his  frankness,  courage,  and 
good-nature — qualities  which  he  was  supposed  to  possess  in  a 
very  high  degree." — Sir  Richard  Musgrave,  History  of  the 
Irish  Rebellion. 

"  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  whose  name  I  never  mention 
without  anxiety  and  grief,  and  of  whom  I  wish  to  speak  with 
as  much  tenderness  as  possible." — Speech  of  the  Attorney  Gen- 
eral (Toler)  on  Bond's  l^ial. 

"  The  allusion  in  the  following  passage  of  Mr.  Curran's 
speech,  to  the  amiable  character  of  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald, 
will  lose  much  of  its  force  to  those  who  have  heard  nothing 
of  that  unfortunate  nobleman  except  his  fate.  His  private 
excellencies  were  so  conspicuous  that  the  officer  of  the  crown, 
who  moved  for  leave  to  bring  in  the  bill  of  attainder,  could 
not  refrain  from  bearing  ample  testimony  to  them  :  *  His  poli- 
tical offences  he  could  not  mention  without  grief ;  and  were  it 
consistent  with  the  principles  of  public  justice,  he  would  wish 
that  the  recording  angel  should  let  fall  a  tear  and  wash  them 
out  for  ever.'" — Currants  Life,  by  his  Svn.^ 

*  The  following  eulogy,  vivid  and  glowing  as  it  is,  and  from  one 
whose  sincerity  was  never  doubted,  ma}-  be  well  added  to  the  fore- 
going.    It  is  from  the  Memoirs  of  William  Sampson,  p.  327,  2d  ed. 

"  iiut  e'er  we  light,  go  call  at  E<i\vard's  tomb,  cry  in  his  ears,  bid 
him  who  sleeps  to  wake,  bid  him  to  rise  and  fight  his  enemies.  Brave 
as  the  lion,  gentler  than  the  lamb,  the  sparkling  jewel  of  an  ancient 
house,  the  nobl»:'St  blood  of  any  in  our  land  ran  through  his  veins. 
He  hears  you  not ;  he  sleeps  to  wake  no  more !  Of  all  his  countr}'^, 
and  of  all  he  owned,  there  rests  no  more  to  him  than  the  cold  grave 
he  lies  in  ! 

"  Oh  gallant,  gallant  Edward,  fallen  in  the  flower  of  youth  and 
pride  of  manly  beauty;  had  you  lived  to  see  your  country  free,  the 
proudest  conqueror  that  wears  a  sword  dared  not  invade  it. 

"  Go  call  his  children  by  their  noble  sire  to  come  and  fight  the  bat- 
tles of  their  country.  What  sire  ?  what  country  ?  They  have  no 
father,  for  you  murdered  him!  They  have  no  country  but  the  green 
sod  that  rests  upon  his  grave !  You  robbed  their  guiltless  infancy, 
tainted  their  innocent  blood,  plundered  their  harmless  cradles  1  " 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  251 

To  these  high  testimonials  iti  his  lordship's  favour,  I  cannot 
resist  the  gratification  of  adding  a,  few  words  of  my  own  ; 
though  conscious  that  the  manner  in  which  his  frank,  simple 
character  has  unfolded  itself  before  the  reader  of  the  fore- 
going pages  renders  any  further  comment  on  it  almost  wholly 
superfluous.  Both  of  his  mind  and  his  heart,  indeed,  simplicity 
may  be  said  to  have  been  the  predominant  feature,  pervading 
all  his  tastes,  habits  of  thinking,  affections,  and  pursuits  ;  and 
it  was  in  this  simplicity,  and  the  singleness  of  purpose  result- 
ing from  it,  that  the  main  strength  of  his  manly  character  lay. 
Talents  far  more  brilliant  would,  for  want  of  the  same  clear- 
ness and  concentration,  have  afforded  a  far  less  efficient  light. 
It  is  Lord  Bacon,  I  believe,  who  remarks  that  the  minds  of 
some  men  resemble  those  ill-arranged  mansions  in  which  there 
are  numerous  small  chambers,  l3ut  no  one  spacious  room. 
With  Lord  Edward  the  very  reverse  was  the  case, — his  mind 
being,  to  the  whole  extent  of  its  range,  thrown  open,  without 
either  partitions  or  turnings,  and  a  direct  singleness,  as  well 
of  power  as  of  aim,  being  the  actuating  principle  of  his  under- 
standing and  his  will. 

It  is  evident 'that  even  a  moderate  portion  of  talent  thus 
earnestly  and  uudividedly  brought  to  bear,  must  be  capable  of 
effects  far  beyond  the  reach  even  of  the  most  splendid  genius, 
when  tempted,  as  it  is  too  often,  by  the  versatility  of  its  own 
powers,  to  deviate  into  mere  display,  and  so  to  lose  sight  of 
the  end  in  the  variety  and  prodigality  of  the  means. 

Another  quality  of  mind  which,  both  in  action  and  in  the 
counsels  connected  with  it,  gave  Lord  Edward  the  advantage 
over  men  far  beyond  him  in  intellectual  resources  was  that  dis- 
interested and  devoted  courage,  which,  rendering  self  a  mere 
cipher  in  his  calculations,  took  from  peril  all  power  to  influence 
his  resolves,  and  left  him  free  to  pursue  the  right  and  the  just, 
unembarrassed  by  a  single  regard  to  the  consequences.  Xever, 
indeed,  was  the  noble  devise  of  the  ancient  worthies  of  France, 
''  Fais  ce  que  je  dois,  advienne  que  pourra,"  more  genuinely 
exemplified  than  in  his  chivalrous  character. 

How  much  of  self-will  there  was  mixed  up  in  his  disposition 
may  be  seen  throughout  the  ordinary  events  of  his  life. 
"  Make  Ogilvie  remember,"  he  savs  in  one  of  his  letters,  "  how 
obstinate  I  am  when  once  I  take  a  resolution."  But  in  him 
the  tendency  of  this  sort  of  character  to  settle  into  obstinacy 


252  MEMOIRS    OF 

was  in  a  great  degree  counteracted,  not  only  by  the  natural 
gentleness  of  his  disposition,  but  by  a  spirit  of  candour  which, 
as  we  have  seen  attested  by  his  friend  Emmet,  rendered  him 
easily  convincible  by  those  on  whose  good  sense  and  good  in- 
tentions he  had  reliance.  The  same  candour  and  gentleness  of 
nature, — however  singular  such  a  mixture  may  appear, — con- 
tinued to  mingle  with  and  influence  his  feelino;s  even  throue-h- 
out  that  part  of  his  career  when  it  must  have  been  most  diffi- 
cult to  keep  them  clear  of  intolerance  and  bitterness  ;  nor,  in 
warring  fiercely  against  principles  which  he  thought  ruinous 
and  odious,  did  he  entertain  towards  the  persons  professing 
them  any  of  that  rancorous  spirit  which  is  so  rarely  separable 
from  the  excitement  of  such  a  strife.  As  one  who  acted  by 
his  side  throughout  that  conflict*  says  of  him — "  He  was  the 
most  tolerant  of  men  : — he  had  no  enmity  to  persons ;"  and 
the  same  authority  adds,  in  all  the  warmth  of  friendly  portrai- 
ture, "  I  never  saw  in  him,  I  will  not  say  a  vice,  but  a  defect," 
But  while  thus  a  natural  sweetness  and  generosity  of  temper 
counteracted  in  him  those  defects  of  obstinacy  and  intolerance 
to  which  a  degree  of  self-will  such  as  he  possessed  almost 
always  leads,  the  great  efficacy  also  of  this  quality  in  giving 
decision  to  the  character  was  no  less  manifested  by  the  perse- 
verance with  which,  through  all  the  disappointments  and  re- 
verses of  his  cause,  he  continued,  as  we  have  seen,  not  only  to 
stand  by  it  firmly  himself,  but  what, — despondingly  as  he 
must  often  have  felt, — was  far  more  trying  to  set  an  example 
of  confidence  in  its  ultimate  success  for  the  encouragement 
of  others.  There  was,  it  is  true,  in  these  very  failures  and 
misfortunes  a  sufficient  stimulus  to  a  strong  and  generous 
mind,  like  his,  to  call  forth  all  its  energies.  Of  such  spirits 
reverses  are  the  true  whet-stones,  and,  as  has  been  well  re- 
marked, "  None  can  feel  themselves  equal  to  the  execution  of 
a  great  design  who  have  not  once  witnessed,  with  firmness  and 
equanimity,  its  failure."f 

*  Arthur  O'Connor. 

f  From  the  speech  given  as  that  of  the  Marquis  de  Bedemar  to  his 
brother  conspirators  on  an  occasion  resembling  somewhat  the  situation 
of  the  United  Irishmen  in  1797, — when  the  fleet  of  the  Viceroy  of 
Kaples,  Avhich  was  on  its  way  to  assist  him,  had  been  attacked  by  cor- 
sairs, and  disabled  from  coming : — "  Les  grands  revers  qui  dans  les 
affaires  communes  doivent  surprendre  les  esj)rit3  sont  des  aceidens  na- 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  253 

We  have  seen,  accordingly,  how  unshrinking  was  the  pati- 
ence, how  unabated  the  cheerfuhiess  with  which  he  was  able 
to  persevere  under  the  continued  frustration  of  all  his  plans 
and  wishes.  The  disappointment,  time  after  time,  of  his  hopes 
of  foreign  succour  might,  from  the  jealousy  with  which  he 
regarded  such  aid,  have  been  easily  surmounted  by  him,  had 
he  but  found  a  readiness  on  the  part  of  his  colleagues  to  sec- 
ond him  in  an  appeal  to  native  strength.  But,  while  the  ele- 
ments baffled  all  his  projects  from  without,  irresolution  and 
timid  counsels  robbed  him  of  his  chosen  moment  of  action 
\vithin  ;  till,  at  last, — confirmatory  of  all  his  own.  warnings 
as  to  the  danger  of  delay, — came  that  treachery  by  which  the 
whole  conspiracy  was  virtually  broken  up,  their  designs  all  laid 
open,  and  himself  left,  a  fugitive  and  a  wanderer,  to  trust  to  the 
precarious  fidelity  of  persons  trembling  for  their  own  safety, 
and  tempted  by  the  successful  perfidy  of  others, — with  hardly 
one  of  those  colleagues  remaining  by  his  side  on  whose  saga- 
city he  could  rely  for  help  through  his  difficulties. 

Still,  as  we  have  seen,  he  persevered,  not  only  firmly  but 
cheerfully,  conceiving  his  responsibility  to  the  cause  to  be  but 
increased  by  the  defection  or  loss  of  its  other  defenders.  After 
the  appearance  of  the  proclamation  against  him,  some  of  his 
friends,  seeing  the  imminent  peril  of  his  position,  had  provided 
some  trusty  boatmen  (like  those  through  whose  means  Ham- 
ilton Rowan  had  escaped),  who  undertook  to  convey  him 
safely  to  the  coast  of  France.  But  Lord  Edward  would  not 
hear  of  it  ; — his  part  was  already  taken.  Submitting  with 
heroic  good-humour  to  a  series  of  stratagems,  disguises,  and 
escapes,  far  more  formidable  to  a  frank  spirit  like  his  than 
the  most  decided  danger,  he  reserved  himself  calmly  for  the 
great  struggle  to  which  his  life  was  pledged  and  w^hieh  he  had 
now  to  encounter,  weakened,  but  not  dismayed, — "  animatus 
melius  (as  Cicero  says  of  another  brave  champion  of  a  des- 
perate cause)  quam  paratus." 

While  such  were  the  stronger  and,  as  they  may  be  called, 
pubUc  features  of  his  character,  of  the  attaching  nature  of  his 
social  qualities  there  exist  so  many  memorials  and  proofs,  both 

tiirels  aux  entreprises  extraordinaires.  lis  sont  la  seule  epreuve  de 
la  force  de  Tame,  et  on  ne  peut  se  croire  capable  d'uu  grand  desseia 
que  quaad  on  I'a  vu  uae  fois  renverse  avec  tranquillite  et  Constance," 


254  MEMOIRS    OF 

in  the  records  of  his  life  and,  still  more  convincingly,  in  those 
bursts  of  sympathy  and  sorrow  which  his  last  melancholy  mo- 
ments called  forth,  that  to  expatiate  any  further  on  the  topic 
would  be  superfluous.  As  son,  friend,  lover,  husband,  and  fa- 
ther, he  may  be  said  to  have  combined  all  that  most  adorns 
and  endears  such  ties.  Limited  as  was  his  income,  he  could 
at  all  times  find  the  means  to  be  generous,  the  simplicity  of 
his  own  habits  enabling  him  to  be  liberal  to  others  ; — "  he 
avoided,"  says  the  friend  already  quoted,  "  every  expense  for 
himself ;  for  others  his  generosity  was  bounded  only  by  the 
means  to  satisfy  it."  By  his  servants  he  was  idolized  ; — 
"  there  was  not  one  of  us  (said  an  honest  old  groom  of  his  to 
me)  that  would  not  gladly  have  laid  down  life  for  him."  Poor 
Tony,  of  whose  fate  the  reader  must  be  desirous  to  know  some- 
thing, never  held  up  his  head  after  his  noble  master's  death, 
and  verv  soon  followed  him. 

Besides  that  charm  which  the  most  perfect  good-nature 
threw  around  all  that  he  said  and  did,  he  had  likewise  in  his 
conversation  a  vein  of  natural  pleasantry,  which  was  the  more 
amusing  from  its  making  no  pretensions  to  amuse,  and  which, 
from  his  great  power  of  self-possession,  he  was  able  to  preserve 
in  situations  where  few  people  could  atford  to  be  playful.  Of 
this  Ave  have  a  characteristic  instance  in  what  Lady  Sarah 
Xapier  mentions  him  to  have  said,  on  an  occasion  of  no  less 
danger  to  himself  than  the  arrest  of  his  friend  Mr,  O'Connor 
at  Maidstone.* 

Among  those  traits  of  character  which  adorned  him  as  a 
member  of  social  life,  there  is  one  which,  on  every  account,  is 
far  too  important  not  to  be  brought  prominently  forward  in 
any  professed  picture  of  him,  and  this  was  the  strong  and  pure 
sense  which  he  entertained  of  religion.  So  much  is  it  the  cus- 
tom of  those  who  would  bring  discredit  upon  freedom  of 
thought  in  politics,  to  represent  it  as  connected  invariably  with 
lax  opinions  upon  religion,  that  it  is  of  no  small  importance  to 
be  able  to  refer  to  two  such  instances  as  Lord  Edward  Fitz- 
gerald and  the  younger  Emmet, — in  both  of  whom  the  freest 
range  of  what  are  called  revolutionary  principles  was  com- 
bined with  a  warm  and  steady  belief  in  the  doctrines  of  Chris- 
tianity, 

Thus  far  the  task  of  rendering  justice  to  the  fine  qualities  of 
*  See  her  Ladyship's  Diary,  p.  20. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  255 

this  noble  person  has  been  safe  and  easy, — the  voice  of  political 
enemies,  no  less  than  of  friends,  concurring  cordially  in  the 
tribute.  In  coming  to  consider,  however,  some  of  the  uses  to 
which  these  high  qualities  were  applied  by  hira,  and  more  par- 
ticularly the  great  object  to  which  in  the  latter  years  of  his 
life  he  devoted  all  their  energies,  a  far  different  tone  of  temper 
and  opinion  is  to  be  counted  on  ;  nor  are  we,  even  yet,  per- 
haps, at  a  sufficient  distance  from  the  vortex  of  that  struggle 
to  have  either  the  courage  or  the  impartiality  requisite  towards 
judging  fairly  of  the  actors  in  it. 

Of  the  right  of  the  oppressed  to  resist,  few,  in  these  days, 
would  venture  to  express  a  doubt, — the  monstrous  doctrine  of 
passive  obedience  having  long  since  fallen  into  disrepute.  To 
be  able  to  fix,  however,  with  any  precision-,  the  point  at  which 
obedience  may  cease,  and  resistance  to  the  undue  stretches  of 
authority  begin,  is  a  difficulty  which  must  for  ever  leave  vague 
and  undirected  the  application  of  the  principle  ; — a  vagueness 
of  which  the  habitual  favourers  of  power  adroitly  take  advan- 
tage, and  while  they  concede  the  right  of  resistance  as  a 
general  proposition,  hold  themselves  free  to  object  to  every 
particular  instance  of  it. 

How  far  the  case  of  Ireland  against  her  government,  as  it 
stood  in  1798,  comes  under  that  description  which  most  writers 
on  political  science  consider  as  justifying  a  people  in  rising 
against  their  rulers,  must  be  left  to  the  readers  of  her  previ- 
ous history  to  decide  for  themselves,  according  to  the  views 
they  respectively  take  of  the  boundaries  within  which  human 
patience  ought  to  limit  its  endurance.  One  of  the  most  an- 
cient, as  well  as  most  able  expounders  of  the  mutual  relations 
between  rulers  and  their  subjects,  in  speaking  of  the  functions 
for  which  a  people  are  qualified,  says, — "  The  safety  of  every 
free  government  requires  that  the  major  part  of  the  citizens 
should  enjoy  a  certain  weight  in  the  administration.  If  this 
does  not  take  place,  the  majority  will  be  dissatisfied,  and  where 
the  majority  are  dissatisfied,  the  government  will  soon  be  sub- 
verted.* 

Had  the  philosophic  politician  carried  his  supposition  still 

*  Aristotle,  Polit.  lib.  3.  cap.  1.  "  Ubi  enim  m\ilti  ab  honorc  omni 
atque  digiiitate  exeluduntur,  ibi  miiltos  reperiri  hostes  Ripnblicoe  iie- 
cesse  est:  imo  plenain  talibus  llempublicam  ac  penitus  ditfertam  esse." 
Heinsii  Peripli. 


256  MEMOIRS    OF 

farther,  and  contemplated  the  possibiUty  of  a  system  in  which 
the  great  majority  of  the  people  should  not  only  be  excluded 
from  all  weight  and  voice  in  the  administration,  but  should  be 
also  disqualified  by  statute  for  the  acquisition  of  property,  in- 
sulted as  well  as  proscribed,  for  adherence  to  their  faith,  and, 
in  every  walk  of  life,  branded  as  serfs  and  outcasts, — what 
duration  would  the;,  sage's  knowledge  of  human  nature  have 
led  him  to  assign  to  such  a  system  ? 

If  in  addition,  too,  to  such  a  proscription  of  the  great  mass 
of  the  people,  he  should  be  told  that,  even  over  the  small, 
patronized  minority  of  its  subjects,  the  government  in  question 
would  usurp  a  power,  less  glaring  but  as  base,  of  which  cor- 
ruption was  the  life-blood  and  peculation  the  aliment,  and  to 
support  which,  therefore,  the  interests  and  the  rights  of  the 
whole  community  were  made  a  matter  of  open  traffic  between 
their  representatives  and  their  rulers, — would  he  not  have  in- 
dignantly applied  to  a  system  so  monstrous,  a  system  thus 
availing  itself  of  all  the  worst  uses  to  which  the  sword  and 
the  purse  are  made  subservient  by  power,*  his  own  strong  lan- 
guage, in  speaking  of  the  various  causes  of  revolution  : — "  In 
such  hands  authority  itself  becomes  hateful  ;  and  the  feelings 
of  mankind  conspire  with  their  reason  to  destroy  a  govern- 
ment pregnant  only  with  mischief,  deformed  by  peculation,  and 
disgraced  by  injustice."! 

By  such  as  view  in  this  light  the  system  against  vrhich  Lord 
Edward  raised  the  standard  of  revolt,  the  question  as  to  the 
justifiableness  of  his  resistance  will  not  be  found  difficult  of 
decision  ;  nor  even  amon":  those  who,  while  acknowledi^inii:  the 
extent  of  the  evil,  yet  shrink  from  the  desperate  nature  of  the 
remedy,  will  there   be  found  many  who,  on  comparing  the 

*  Tlie  whole  course  of  the  ruling  party  in  Ireland,  from  1782  to 
1798,  is  thus  strongly  and  truh'  traced  by  Mr.  Grattan : — "They  op- 
posed the  restoration  of  the  constitution  of  Ireland  ;  tliey  afterward 
endeavoured  to  betraj'  and  undermine  it.  The\'  introduced  a  system 
of  corruption  unknown  in  the  annals  of  parliament.  Having  by  such 
proceedings  lost  the  affection  of  the  people  of  Ireland,  they  resorted  to 
a  sytem  of  coercion  to  support  a  system  of  corruption,  which  they  closed 
by  a  system  of  torture,  attendant  on  a  conspiracy  of  which  their  criines 
were  the  cause. — Letter  to  the  Courier  newspaper,  Xoveinher,  1798. 

f  ^Y6pL^nvTuv  Te  Kai  tuv  ev  ratg  apxat^  nai  -/.eovsKvovvTov.  The  trans- 
lation, or  rather  very  loose  paraphrase  of  the  whole  passage,  which 
I  have  given  above,  is  from  Gillies, 


LORD  EDWARD  FITZGERALD.    .  25*1 

manifold  enormities  of  the  aggressor  with  the  long  forborne 
vengeance  of  the  wronged,  can  feel  a  doubt  as  to  lohich  of  the 
two  parties  the  blame  of  that  alternative  must  rest  with,  or 
hesitate  to  pronounce,  as  Mr.  Grattan  did  deliberately  in  his 
place  in  the  Irish  House  of  Commons* — "  I  think  now,  as  I 
thought  then  (1198),  tliat  the  treason  of  the  minister  against 
the  liberties  of  the  people  was  infinitely  worse  than  the  rebel- 
lion of  the  people  against  the  minister." 

There  are  persons,  it  is  true,  the  bias  of  whose  thoughts  and 
feelings  renders  them  incapable  of  considering  the  noble  subject 
of  these  pages  in  any  other  light  than  that  of  a  rebel  against 
legitimate  authority,  and  as  such  politically  excluded  from  the 
circle  of  their  sympathies.  But  not  so  does  the  feeling  of 
mankind  in  general  requite  the  generous  martyrs  of  their  com- 
mon cause.  Even  wiiere  contemporaries  have  been  unjust, "j* 
Time,  the  great  vindicator  of  those  who  struggle  for  the  right, 
seldom  fails  to  enforce  a  due  atonement  to  their  memories  ; 
and,  while  on  those  who  so  long  resisted  the  just  claims  of  the 
Irish  people  lies  the  blame  of  whatever  excesses  they  were  ul- 
timately driven  to,  the  concession,  late,  but  effectual,  of  those 
measures  of  emancipation  and  reform  which  it  was  the  first 
object  of  Lord  Edward  and  his  brave  associates  to  obtain,  has 
set  a  seal  upon  the  general  justice  of  their  cause  which  no 
power  of  courts  or  courtiers  can  ever  do  away. 

It  is  plain,  however,  that,  strong  as  may  be  the  inherent 
justice  of  any  cause,  without  some  clear  and  rationally 
grounded  probability  of  success,  an  appeal  to  arms  in  its  be- 
half can  by  no  means  be  justified  ; — the  very  interests  of  tire 
great  principle  which  is  at  issue  demanding,  as  a  moral  duty, 
from  its  defenders  that  they  should  not  rashly  expose  them- 
selves to  the  disgrace  of  failure,  nor,  by  any  burst  of  weak 
violence,  provoke  a  retaliation  which  may  only  add  to  the  fet- 
ters it  is  their  purpose  to  break.  With  this  sort  of  miscalcu- 
lation,— adversely  as  all  that  depended  upon  chance  turned 
out  for  them, — the  leaders  of  the  Irish  rebellion  are  by  no 
means  to  be  charged.     It  was  truly  said  by  Lord  Halifax  that 

*  Debate  on  the  Union,  Feb.  U,  1800. 

f  Few  have  the  courage,  Hke  Lord  Chatham,  to  put  the  matter  in 
its  true  light,  even  while  the  storm  is  raging,  or  say,  as  he  did,  in  the 
year  1777, — "Those  whigs  and  freemen  of  America,  whom  you,  my 
lords,  call  rebels." 


258  MEMOIRS    OF 

"  there  is  more  strength  in  union  tlmn  in  numbers  ; "  and  the 
United  Irishmen,  in  combining-  both  these  sources  of  strength, 
secured  to  themselv-es  two  of  the  surest  elements  of  success.* 
When,  in  addition  to  this,  too,  we  take  into  account  the  ex- 
pected aid  from  France,  the  many  embarrassments  in  which 
England  was  involved  at  that  crisis,  the  disaffection  of  the 
Irish  militias,  and  the  unprepared  state  of  defence  of  the  en- 
tire country,  it  will  be  confessed  not  to  have  been  over  san- 
guine  in  the  chiefs  of  the  Union  to  calculate  upon  a  prepon- 
derance of  chances  in  their  favour. 

Even  the  rebellion  that  followed,  mutilated  as  it  was  of 
of  native  strength,  and  unassisted  from  without,  yet  presented 
so  formidable  a  front  as  to  incline  Sir  John  Moore  to  the 
opinion  that,  had  a  French  force  at  the  same  time  shown 
itself  on  the  coast,  the  most  serious,  if  not  fatal  consequences 
must  have  ensued.  As  it  was,  the  cost  to  the  government  of 
no  less  than  20,000  livesf  in  putting  down  what  was  but  a 
partial  movement  of  the  Union,  —  the  North,  its  head-quarters, 
having  scarcely  stirred, — leaves  awful  room  for  conjecture  as 
to  what  might  have  been  the  result,  had  the  whole  organized 
mass,  under  its  first  leaders,  been  set  in  motion. 

Another  point  connected  with,  and,  in  some  instances,  in- 
cluded in  the  question  of  resistance,  is  that  of  the  allowable- 

*  How  powerfully  they  were  backed  also  by  property  will  appear 
from  the  following  evidence  of  Dr.  ^SlacXevin: — 

"  Mr.  Alexander. — Altlioujjh  talents  and  education  are  to  be  found 
in  the  Union',  yet  there  is  no  comparison,  in  point  of  property,  be- 
tween those  who  invited  the  French  and  those  who  brought  in  King 
William. 

"  Dr.  MacXevin. — Pardon  me,  sir.  I  know  many  who  possess  much 
larger  properties  than  did  Lord  Danby,  who  signed  the  invitation  to 
the  Prince  of  Orange,  or  than  did  Lord  Somers,  who  was  the  groat 
champion  of  the  Revolution.  The  property  of  the  Union  is  immense; 
but  persons  in  a  situation  to  be  more  easil\-  watched  were  not  required 
to  render  themselves  particularly  conspicuous." 

In  Emmet's  account  of  his  own  examination,  too,  we  find,  "  I  was 
asked  by  many  of  the  members  whether  there  were  many  persons  of 
property  in  the  Union.  I  answered  that  there  was  immense  property 
in  it.  They  acknowledge  there  was  great  personal  property  in  it, 
but  wished  to  know  was  there  much  landed  property ;  I  answered 
there  was." 

•j-  The  calculation  of  the  loss  on  both  sides  makes  it  20,000  on  the' 
part  of  the  government,  and  50,000  on  that  of  the  insurgents. 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  259 

ness  or  expediency  of  calling  in  foreign  aid, — a  resource  the 
peril  of  which  to  national  independence,  in  all  cases,  limits  the 
occasions  where  it  can  be  at  all  jastitiably  employed  to  a  very 
few.  Where  the  will  of  a  majority  of  the  people  is  declared 
in  favour  of  a  change,  such  aid  will  of  course  be  unnecessary. 
It  is,  therefore,  in  the  very  nature  of  things,  the  sort  of  ex- 
pedient most  likely  to  be  resorted  to  by  a  small  and  desperate 
minority,  or  sometimes  even  by  individuals,  who,  as  in  the  case 
of  Count  Julian,  the  betrayer  of  Spain  to  the  Moors,  or  Mac 
Murohad,  who  first  invited  the  English  into  Ireland,  have  been 
able,  in  one  reckless  movement  of  revenge,  to  fix  the  yoke  of 
the  stranger  on  their  country's  neck  for  ages. 

That  Lord  Edward  was  well  aware  of  the  peril  to  which 
even  the  purchased  aid  of  France  might  expose  his  country's 
independence  has  been  shown  sufficiently  in  the  course  of  these 
pages.*  Soon  after  his  junction  with  the  United  Irishmen,  a 
friend  of  his,  who  approved  perfectly  of  their  objects,  but  had 
a  strong  objection  to  the  intention  of  calling  in  foreign  aid, 
having  expressed  his  opinions  to  this  effect.  Lord  Edward  an- 
swered that,  without  such  aid,  it  would  be  impossible  for  them 
to  accomplish  their  purpose.  "  This,  then,  only  proves,''  re- 
plied his  friend  (from  whom  I  heard  the  anecdote),  "that  the 
country  is  not  yet  ripe  for  the  design,  and  that  you  are  prema- 
ture in  your  movements," 

Applied  to  a  country  not  dependent  upon  tlte  power  of  an- 
other, this  argument  would  have  been  conclusive.  In  the 
natural  course  of  affairs,  indeed,  the  whole  question  of  resist- 
ance, as  well  as  of  recourse  to  foreign  succour,  lies  within  a 
very  simple  compass.  Where  the  great  bulk  of  the  people 
are  disposed  to  change  their  government  for  a  better,  they 
have  not  only  the  right  to  do  so,  but,  being  the  majority,  have 
also  the  power.  In  this  case,  therefore,  the  intervention  of 
foreign  assistance  is  unnecessary.  It  happens  sometimes,  how- 
ever, that  the  right  is  not  thus  backed  by  the  power, — as  in 
Ireland,  at  the  time  we  are  speaking  of,  and  some  years  before 
in  America,  where  the  malcontents,  though  strong  on  their  own 
land,  yet  constituted  but  a  minority  of  the  whole  empire,  and  the 
arm  of  the  stranger  from  without,  however  hazardous  the  alli- 

*  "I  believe,  latterly.  Lord  Edward  was  rather  afraid  of  invasion, 
lest  '\e  French  should  conquer  Irehind,  and  tlierefore  urged  on  the 
■^  ■      3Ction." — Jt^eilsofi's  Evidence  before  the  Secret  Committee. 


260  MEMOIRS    OF 

ance,  presented  one  of  their  few  chances  of  liberation  from  the 
intruder  within.  In  Ireland,  as  we  have  seen,  this  alternative 
was  adopted  with  reluctance  and  fear  ;  but  so  little  did  the 
Americans  hesitate  in  resorting  to  such  aid  that,  in  the  first 
public  declaration  of  their  independence  of  Great  Britain 
(May  15th,  1T76),  the  second  sentence  stated  that  "measures 
were  to  be  immediately  taken  for  procuring  the  assistance  of 
foreign  powers."  The  example  of  England  in  1688,  to  which 
the  United  Irishmen  constantly  referred,  as  a  justification  of 
their  own  conduct  in  inviting  foreign  aid,  was  by  no  means  a 
case  in  point,  and  went  to  establish,  indeed,  a  far  more  dan- 
gerous precedent  ;  it  being,  in  that  instance,  against  a  native 
government  that  the  aid  of  the  foreigner  was  called  in,  and 
not  only  by  a  minority  of  the  nation,  but  that  minority  com- 
posed chiefly  of  the  aristocracy, — a  class  who  assuredly  have 
not  always  shown  themselves  so  worthy  as  on  that  occasion  of 
being  the  sole  arbiters  and  disposers  of  a  whole  people's  des- 
tiny. 

For  the  excesses,  and,  in  more  than  one  instance,  cold- 
blooded cruelties  by  which  the  rebellion  that  followed  Lord 
Edward's  arrest  was  disgraced,  neither  he  nor  any  of  those 
leaders  who  first  directed  its  movements,  and  the  spirit  of 
whose  views  and  counsels  had  departed  with  themselves,  are  to 
be  considered  at  all  responsible.  In  reference  to  a  proclama- 
tion of  a  sanguinary  character  found  upon  one  of  the  Sheares's, 
Mr.  Emmet  declared,  in  his  examination  before  the  Lords,  that 
he  entirely  "  disapproved  of  it  ; — that  the  old  executive  had 
never  meant  to  spill  blood,  but  rather  to  retain  men  of  a  cer- 
tain rank  as  hostages,  and  if  they  found  them  hostile  to  the 
revolutionary  government,  to  send  them  out  of  the  country." 

Even  while  present  and  in  full  activity,  the  authority  of 
these  chiefs  had  not  been  able  so  to  "  turn  and  wind"  the  fiery 
spirit  they  had  excited  as  to  prevent  it  from  breaking  out  into 
violences  the  most  abhorrent  to  their  own  natures  ;  and  the 
charge  brought  against  Lord  Edward  and  his  friends  of  having 
connived  at,  if  not  encouraged,  the  circulation  of  an  infamous 
paper  called  "  the  Union  Star,"  the  professed  object  of  which 
was  to  point  out  victims  for  the  assassin's  dagger,  was,  by  that 
class  of  partisans  who  believe  any  thing  of  an  enemy,  re- 
ceived with  ready  credence.  In  a  similar  manner,  we  know, 
the  schemes  of   the  underlings  in  the  Rye-house  plot  were 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  261 

assumed  as  matter  of  real  charge  and  odium  against  their 
principals.  But  the  same  justice  which  repels  from  the  me- 
mories of  such  men  as  Lord  Russell  and  Sydney  any  suspicion 
of  having  sanctioned  the  cowardly  crime  of  assassination,  will 
reject,  with  no  less  indignant  promptness,  any  such  aspersion 
on  the  name  of  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald. 

Of  the  natural  endowments  and  dispositions  of  his  lordship 
little  more  remains  to  be  said.  His  acquisitions  from  educa- 
tion or  study  were,  as  may  be  concluded  from  the  active  tenor 
of  his  life,  not  very  extensive  :  but  he  had  a  retentiveness  of 
memory  which,  in  some  degree,  supplied  the  place  of  study,  by 
enabling  him  to  treasure  up  with  selection  and  accuracy  what- 
ever he  heard  in  conversation.  In  thus  arriving,  too,  at  the 
contents  of  books  through  other  men's  minds,  he  became  ac- 
quainted at  once  both  with  the  men  and  the  books,  instead  of 
studying  in  his  closet  only  the  latter.  While  this  faculty  was 
of  such  advantage  to  him  as  a  man  of  the  world,  he  had  a 
quickness  of  eye  no  less  remarkable  and  useful  to  him  in  his 
profession  as  a  soldier.  The  most  hasty  glance,  in  passing 
through  a  tract  of  country,  was  sufficient,  it  is  said,  to  put 
him  in  possession  of  all  its  bearings  and  military  positions  : 
not  a  ridge  or  a  stream  escaped  him  as  he  went,  and  he  could 
have  mapped  it  all,  immediately  after,  with  the  utmost  accuracy. 

By  these  latter  remarks  we  are  led  naturally  to  a  considera- 
tion of  his  lordship's  military  character, — a  point  of  view  in 
which  he  will  be  found  to  stand  pre-eminent,  as,  in  addition  to 
his  great  courage  and  early  experience,  he  appears  also,  from 
the  report  of  persons  who  were  acquainted  with  his  opinions, 
to  have  taken  enlarged  and  original  views  of  his  art,  and  to 
have  anticipated  some  of  those  lights  on  military  subjects  which 
the  bolder  spirit  of  modern  warfare  has,  since  his  time,  elicited. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  immediately  after  he  had  joined 
the  United  Irishmen,  their  system  of  organization,  which  had 
before  been  purely  civil,  was  converted,  with  scarcely  any  other 
change  than  that  of  the  titles  of  the  officers,  into  a  most  effi- 
cient system  of  military  force  ;  and  it  is  a  proof  of  the  skill 
and  foresight  with  which  this  mode  of  organization  had  been 
devised,  that  not  only  did  it  thus  easily  admit  of  being  turned 
into  a  compact  national  armament,  but  that,  from  the  sound 
principles  of  representation  on  which  the  whole  scheme  was 
constructed,  and  the  facility  it  afforded  of  transmitting  the  will 


262  -MEMOIRS    OF 

of  the  executive  to  the  people,  it  presented  ready  made,  wlien 
wanted, — in  the  event  of  their  struii'O'le  succeedinu", — the  com- 
plete  frameAvork  of  a  provisional,  if  not  of  a  permanent  gov- 
ernment. 

In  training  the  people  to  arms,  it  was  the  opinion  of  Lord 
Edward,  that  till  they  had  been  perfected  in  that  first  rudi- 
ment of  soldiership,  marching,  or,  in  other  words,  moving 
through  equal  spaces  in  equal  times, — till  they  had  been  also 
brought  to  a  sufficient  degree  of  celerity  and  precision  in  form- 
ing from  column  to  line,  and  from  line  to  column,  and  in  ex- 
ecuting these  changes  of  position  by  dispersion  and  reforma- 
tion, it  w^as  altogether  premature  to  think  of  placing  arms  in 
their  hands.  So  far  was  he,  indeed,  from  being  impatient  to 
see  the  people  armed,  that,  for  this,  as  well  as  other  reasons, 
his  utmost  efforts  were  directed  to  repress  that  habit  so  long- 
prevalent  among  the  lower  orders  of  Irish  of  providing  them- 
selves with  weapons  by  the  plunder  of  gentlemen's  houses  ; 
his  constant  observation  being  that  "  till  the  arms  were 
wanted,  they  would  be  safest  and  best  taken  care  of  in  the 
hands  of  their  present  owners." 

Even  for  the  purpose  of  training  troops  to  be  good  marksmen, 
he  had  a  notion,  it  seems,  that  firearms  might  be  dispensed 
wdth,  and  the  expense  of  the  ammunition  which  target-practice 
requires  be  saved.  Having  observed,  while  in  America,  that 
the  Indians,  who  are  almost  all  expert  marksmen,  have  at- 
tained this  accuracy  of  aim  by  the  use  of  the  bow  and  arrow 
while  young,  he  was  of  opinion  that,  among  the  means  of  train- 
ing a  people  to  national  warfare,  the  same  economical  mode 
of  practice  might  be  adopted, — the  habit  of  aiming  at  a  mark 
with  any  missile,  whether  bow  or  sling,  being  sure  to  establish 
that  sort  of  sympathy  between  the  hand  and  eye  w^hich  ena- 
bles the  execution  of  the  one  to  follow  instantly  the  direction 
of  the  other,  and  this  precision  of  aim  once  acquired,  being, 
with  little  difficulty,  transferable  to  the  use  of  the  musket  or 
rifle. 

That  Lord  Edward  may  have  thrown  out  this  ingenious 
suggestion  in  conversation  can  be  easily  believed  ;  but  that 
he  had  any  serious  notions  of  adopting  it  in  his  system  of  mili- 
tary organization  for  Ireland  appears  somewhat  questionable. 

Another  peculiarity  of  opinion  attributed  to  him  is  that 
of  having  preferred  the  rifle,  as  an  arm  of  common  use,  to  the 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  263 

musket  ;  an  opinion  which  is  at  variance,  at  least,  with  tlie 
first  military  authority  of  our  age,  who  has  declared  "  que  le 
fusil  est  la  meillure  machine  de  guerre  qui  ait  ete  invente  pur 
les  hommes  ;*  an  opinion,  of  the  sincerity  of  which  there  could 
not  be  a  better  practical  proof  than  that,  in  the  whole  Impe- 
rial army,  there  was  not  a  single  rifle.  Whatever  may  have 
been  Lord  Edward's  theory  on  the  subject,  it  is  certain  that 
there  occurs  no  mention  of  this  description  of  arms  in  any 
of  the  returns  made  to  the  Irish  executive  by  its  officers,  nor 
does  it  appear  in  what  manner  the  supply  of  them,  counted 
upon,  it  is  alleged,  by  Lord  Edward,  was  to  be  obtained.  It 
is,  indeed,  stated  that  a  depot  of  such  arms  was,  by  his  orders, 
preparing  at  Brest,  w^hich,  when  the  proper  time  should  arrive, 
were  to  be  run  over  in  luggers,  and  landed  ;  but  for  this  sup- 
position I  cannot  find  any  satisfactory  evidence. 

Of  his  lordship's  other  views  on  military  subjects,  as  con- 
veyed in  the  conversations  reported  to  me,  I  have  not  space 
sufficient  to  enter  into  any  details.  But,  on  all  the  points  con- 
nected with  the  sort  of  warfiire  he  was  about  to  engage  in, — • 
the  advantages  to  be  derived  from  the  peculiarities,  both  moral 
and  physical,  of  the  country  ;  from  the  equal  diffusion  of  the 
population  over  its  whole  surface,  enabling  every  district  to 
produce  its  own  army,  and  thus  saving  the  expense  and  disor- 
ganization of  long  marches  ; — the  account  to  which  superiority 
of  numbers  may  be  turned  by  the  power  they  give  of  outflank- 
ing the  enemy, — the  prudence  of  avoiding  pitched  battles, f — 
the  disadvantage  of  being  the  assailant  in  mountain  war,  j — 
on  all  these,  and  other  such  tactical  points,  the  mind  of  Lord 
Edward  seems  to  have  been  considerably  in  advance  of  his  con- 
temporaries, and  to  have  anticipated  much  that  a  long 
experience  in  warfare  has  taught  to  Europe  since. 

*  Napoleon's  Notes  xipon  Rognard's  Art  de  Guerre. 

•j-  "  In  imitation  of  the  Central  Juntas,  they  call  out  for  a  battle  and 
early  success.  If  I  had  the  power,  I  would  have  prevented  the 
Spanish  armies  from  attending  to  this  call ;  and,  if  I  had,  the  cause 
would  now  have  been  safe." — Duke  of  Wellingtoii  s  Letters  to  the  Por- 
tuguese Regency. 

\  "  The  attacking  party  in  mountain  warfare  will  have  the  disad- 
vantage."— Reveries  du  Marechal  Saxe.  In  a  similar  manner,  Colonel 
Napier  (without  ever  having,  as  he  assures  me,  read  Marechal  Saxe) 
savs, — "  He  who  receives  battle  in  the  hills  has  ahvaj-s  the  advan- 
tage." 


264  MEMOIRS    OF 

At  the  time  of  the  search  after  him  oq  the  12th  of  March, 
there  was  found  in  his  writing-box,  at  Leinster-house,  a  paper, 
which  is  generally  supposed  to  have  been  the  production  of  his 
own  pen,  and  with  the  insertion  of  which,  therefore,  I  shall 
conclude  this  part  of  my  subject. 

"  If  ever  any  unfortunate  cause  should  put  our  city,  with  the 
other  parts  of  the  country,  into  the  possession  of  a  cruel  and 
tyrannical  enemy,  whose  government  might,  by  repeated  op- 
pressions, drive  us  into  the  last  stage  of  desperate  resistance, 
our  conduct  then  should  be  regulated  in  a  manner  best  calcu- 
lated for  obtaining  victory. 

"  The  following  thoughts  are  humbly  offered  for  the  inspec- 
tion of  every  real  Irishman. 

*'  In  such  a  case  every  man  ought  to  consider  how  that  army 
could  be  attacked  or  repelled,  and  what  advantage  their  dis- 
cipline and  numbers  might  give  them  in  a  populous  city,  acting 
in  concert  with  the  adjoining  counties. 

"  It  is  well  known  that  an  officer  of  any  skill  in  his  profes- 
sion would  be  very  cautious  of  bringing  the  best  disciplined 
troops  into  a  large  city  in  a  state  of  insurrection,  for  the  fol- 
lowing reasons  : 

"  His  troops,  by  the  breadth  of  the  streets,  are  obliged  to 
have  a  very  narrow  front,  and  however  numerous,  only  three 
men  deep  can  be  brought  into  action,  which  in  the  widest  of 
our  streets  cannot  be  more  than  sixty  men  ;  as  a  space  must 
be  left  on  each  side  or  flank,  for  the  men  who  discharge  to 
retreat  to  the  rear,  that  their  places  may  be  occupied  by  the 
next  in  succession,  who  are  loaded  ;  so,  though  there  are  a 
thousand  men  in  a  street,  not  more  than  sixty  can  act  at  one 
time,  and  should  they  be  attacked  by  an  irregular  body  armed 
with  pikes  or  such  bold  weapons,  if  the  sixty  men  in  front 
were  defeated,  the  whole  body,  however  numerous,  are  unable 
to  assist,  and  immediately  become  a  small  mob  in  uniform, 
from  the  inferiority  of  their  number  in  comparison  to  the 
people,  and  easily  disposed  of. 

"  Another  inconvenience  might  destroy  the  order  of  this 
army.  Perhaps  at  the  same  moment  they  may  be  dreadfully 
galled  from  the  house-tops,  by  showers  of  bricks,  coping-stones, 
&c.,  which  may  be  at  hand, — without  imitating  the  women  of 


LORD    EDWARD    FITZGERALD.  265 

Paris,  who  carried  the  stones  of  the  unpaved  streets  to  the 
windows  and  tops  of  the  houses  in  their  aprons.* 
'  **  Another  disadvantage  on  the  part  of  the  soldiers  would 
be,  that,  as  they  are  regulated  by  the  word  of  command,  or 
stroke  of  the  drum,  they  must  be  left  to  their  individual  dis- 
cretion, as  such  communications  must  be  drowned  in  the  noise 
and  clamour  of  a  popular  tumult. 

"  In  the  next  place,  that  part  of  the  populace  who  could  not 
get  into  the  engagement,  would  be  employed  in  unpaving  the 
streets,  so  as  to  impede  the  movements  of  horse  or  artillery  ;  and 
in  the  avenues  where  the  army  were  likely  to  pass,  numbers 
would  be  engaged  forming  barriers  of  hogsheads,  carts,  cars, 
counters,  doors,  &c.,  the  forcing  of  which  barriers  by  the  army 
would  be  disputed,  while  like  ones  were  forming  at  every 
twenty  or  thirty  yards,  or  any  convenient  distances  the  situa- 
tion might  require  ;  should  such  precautions  be  well  observed, 
the  progress  of  an  army  through  one  street  or  over  one  bridge 
would  be  very  tedious,  and  attended  with  great  loss,  if  it  would 
not  be  destroyed.  At  the  same  time  the  neighbouring  coun- 
ties might  rise  in  a  mass  and  dispose  of  the  troops  scattered 
in  their  vicinity,  and  prevent  a  junction  or  a  passage  of  any 
army  intended  for  the  city  ;  they  would  tear  up  the  roads  and 
barricade  every  convenient  distance  with  trees,  timber,  imple- 
ments of  husbandry,  &c.,  at  the  same  time  lining  the  hedges, 
w^alls,  ditches,  and  houses,  with  men  armed  with  muskets,  who 
would  keep  up  a  well-directed  fire. 

''  However  well  exercised  standing  armies  are  supposed  to 
be,  by  frequent  reviews,  and  sham  battles,  they  are  never  pre- 
pared for  broken  roads,  or  enclosed  fields,  in  a  country  like  ours, 
covered  with  innumerable  and  continued  intersections  of  ditches 
and  hedges,  every  one  of  which  is  an  advantage  to  an  irregu- 
lar body,  and  may  with  advantage  be  disputed  against  an 
army,  as  so  many  fortifications  and  entrenchments. 

"  The  people  in  the  city  would  have  an  advantage  by  being 
armed  with  pikes  or  such  weapons.     The  first  attack  if  possi- 

*  "  Tlie  soldier,  if  posted  in  the  streets  of  a  town,  -will  be  assailed 
from  the  roofs  and  windows  of  the  houses  and  lost.  He  cannot  remain 
there  ;  nor  is  he  much  better  off,  if  in  the  squares  surrounded  by  houses. 
The  examples  of  Warsaw,  that  of  Ghent,  and  of  Brussels  in  1789, 
sufficiently  demonstrate  the  truth  of  what  I  advance." — Bulov;,  Spirit 
of  Modern  System  of  War. 


266  MEMOIRS   OF 

ble  should  be  made  by  men  whose  pikes  were  nine  or  ten  feel 
long  ;  by  that  means  they  could  act  in  ranks  deeper  than  the 
soldiery,  whose  arms  are  much  shorter  ;  then  the  deep  files  of 
the  pikemen,  by  being  weightier,  must  easily  break  the  thin 
order  of  the  army, 

"  The  charge  of  the  pikemen  should  be  made  in  a  smart 
trot.  On  the  flank  or  extremity  of  every  rank,  there  should 
be  intrepid  men  placed  to  keep  the  fronts  even,  that,  at  clos- 
ing, every  point  should  tell  together.  They  should  have  at 
the  same  time  two  or  three  like  bodies  at  convenient  distances 
in  the  rear,  who  would  be  brought  up,  if  wanting,  to  support 
the  front,  which  would  give  confidence  to  their  brothers  in 
action,  as  it  would  tend  to  discourage  the  enemy.  At  the 
same  time  there  should  be  in  the  rear  of  each  division  some 
men  of  spirit  to  keep  the  ranks  as  close  as  possible.- 

"  The  apparent  strength  of  the  army  should  not  intimidate, 
as  closing  on  it  makes  its  powder  and  ball  useless  :  all  its  su- 
periority is  in  fighting  at  a  distance  ;  all  its  skill  ceases,  and 
all  its  action  must  be  suspended,  when  it  once  is  within  reach 
of  the  pike. 

"  The  reason  of  printing  and  writing  this  is  to  remind  the 
people  of  discussing  military  subjects." 

On  the  2'Ith  of  July,  1798,  a  bill  was  brought  forward  by 
the  attorney-general  for  the  attainder  of  Lord  Edward  Fitz- 
gerald, Cornelius  Grogan,  and  Beauchamp  Bagenal  Harvey. 
After  a  long  discussion  and  examination  of  witnesses  in  both 
houses,  the  bill  passed  the  house  of  lords  in  the  month  of  Sep- 
tember, and  received  the  royal  assent  in  the  October  following. 

From  among  the  letters  and  documents  in  my  possession 
connected  with  the  history  of  Lord  Edward's  attainder,  I  shall 
select  such  as  appear  to  me  most  generally  interesting,  and 
throw  them  into  the  form  of  an  Appendix  for  the  conclusion 
of  this  work. 


APPENDIX. 


FROM    COLONEL    NAPIER    TO    LORD    HENRY    FITZGERALD. 

"  Celbridge,  July  28th,  1798. 

"  My  dear  Lord, 

"  I  feel  it  incumbent  on  me  to  apprize  you  that  Mr.  Toler  has 
most  humanely  thought  proper  to  move  for  leave  to  bring  in  a 
bill  of  attainder  for  the  purpose  of  confiscating  the  property  of 
your  poor  brother,  as  well  as  that  of  B.  Harvey  and  Grogan  Knox. 
For  his  attempt  on  the  estates  of  the  two  last  there  exists  some 
pretext,  as  they  were  tried  and  condemned  by  a  court-martial ; 
but  this  wanton  posthumous  malignity  to  Lord  Edward  is  repug- 
nant to  every  principle  of  law  and  equity,  and  diametrically  op- 
posite to  the  spirit  of  the  constitution,  which  presumes  every  man 
innocent  until  he  has  been  fairly  tried  and  convicted.  However, 
it  accords  well  with  the  illiberal  rapacity  of  the  prevailing  fac- 
tion in  this  miserable  country,  which  which  will  move  hell  and 
earth  to  carry  the  measure  into  effect  unless  you  succeed  in  dis- 
appointing their  inhuman  avarice  by  a  timely  application  to  his 
majesty,  in  any  manner  you  judge  most  likely  to  prevail, 

-Ir  7r  vs-  -X-  -K- 

"  Lord  Cornwallis's  avowed  predilection  for  humane  and  con- 
ciliatory measures  gives  great  offence  to  the  Robespierres.  Nei'os, 
and  Culigulas  of  this  country,  but  is  applauded  by  every  prudent 
man  as  well  as  every  friend  to  humanity  ;  and  I  have  strong 
hopes  he  will  succeed  in  tranquillizing  the  public  mind,  of  which 
desirable  object  (if  it  be  obtained)  he  must  have  tlie  sole  merit, 
as  nobody  can  accuse  his  counsellors  of  being  so  weak  as  to  sacri- 
fice either  personal  interest  or  contemptible  and  indiscriminate 
resentment  to  the  softer  sentiments  of  liberality  and  compassion. 

'•  Adieu,  my  dear  lord.  Present  my  respects  to  Lady  Henry, 
with  Lady  Sarah's  love  to  you  both,  and  believe  me  yours,  most 
sincerely, 

"  George  Napier." 


268  APPENDIX. 

FROM    THE    DUKE    OF    RICHMOND   TO    LORD    HENRY  FITZGERALD. 

"  Goodwood,  August  14,  1798. 

"  My  dear  Henry, 

"  As  Mr.  Ogilvie  will,  I  believe,  write  to  you  pretty  fully,  and 
the  position  of  writint;  hurts  my  stomach,  1  shall  not  trouble  you 
long  to-day  ;  but  I  will,  as  shortly  as  I  can,  state  my  opinion 
which  is.  that  you,  as  trustee  for  the  children,  should  instruct 
counsel  to  oppose  the  bill,  after  presenting  a  petition  to  be  heard 
against  it  in  their  behalf; — that  you  should  direct  your  counsel 
not  to  attempt  any  defence,  alleging  that  it  is  impossible  to  defend 
a  dead  man  against  accusations  of  a  personal  nature,  which  he 
alone  is  competent  to  controvert :  but  which,  nevertheless,  can- 
not be  admitted  till  proved,  and  cannot  be  proved  now  because 
there  is  no  possibility  of  hearing  the  accused  in  his  own  defence, 
and,  without  hearing,  no  man  can,  in  justice,  be  condemned  or 
convicted ; — that  therefore,  even  supposing  all  Mr.  Reynolds  or 
any  other  witness  may  swear  to  be  true,  it  cannot  be  received  as 
such,  or  a^  sufficient  to  convict  a  man  in  a  court  of  justice,  unless 
the  accused  has  an  opportunity  of  opposing  that  evidence  by 
other  evidence  ;  and  that  he  who  knew  Avhether  he  was  guilty  or 
not  being  dead,  and  consequently  incapable  of  defending  himself, 
no  one  else  can  : — that  almost  all  the  acts  of  attainder  in  the 
statute-book  are  made  against  persons  alive,  who  have  fled  from 
justice,  and  give  them  a  day  to  appear  and  defend  themselves ; 
if  they  do  not,  then  their  non-appearance  is  taken  for  admission, 
and  they  are  upon  that  adjudged  guilty  :  but  this  calling  on  them 
to  appear  proves  the  necessity  of  hearing  them,  or  at  least  of 
giving  them  an  opportunity  to  be  heard. 

"  Of  persons  who  are  dead  being  attained,  there  are  few  exam- 
ples— 1  rather  believe  none  since  the  Revolution  ;  and  the  only 
one  I  can  find  before  is,  the  attainder  of  Oliver  Cromwell  and  the 
regicides  immediately  after  the  restoration.  That  case  will  be 
allowed  to  be  a  singular  one,  and  the  grounds  on  which  it  went 
was  the  notoriety  of  their  guilt ;  and  certainly  no  man  would  deny 
but  that  it  was  notorious  that  Oliver  Cromwell  had  usurped  the 
regal  power,  and  that  those  who  publicly  sat  in  judgment  on 
Charles  the  First  and  condemned  him  had  been  concerned  in  his 
death.  But  surely  such  notoriety  is  very  diiferent  from  an  overt 
act  consisting  of  private  meetings,  speeches,  papers,  commissions, 
or  receiving  money  to  stir  up  a  rebellion.  These  overt  acts  may 
have  taken  place,  but  they  are  not  matters  of  public  notoriety 
like  that  which  alone  was  thou2;ht  sufficient  to  found  this  single 
ace  of  attainder  against  dead  persons.  The  charges  against  Ed- 
ward are.  undoubtedly,  of  a  very  different  description,  and  such 
as  are  not  known  but  by  the  evidence  of  one  or  two  men,  which 
evidence  he  might  possibly  have  disproved  ;  and,  therefore,  upon 


APPENDIX.  269 

such  ex  parte  allegations  to  attaint,  not  the  man,  but  his  innocent 
children,  must  be  the  height  of  injustice. 

'•  On  these  grounds,  I  should  advise  your  counsel  to  say  that  he 
will  not  pretend  to  enter  upon  any  defence,  and  thereby  give  a 
countenance  to  such  a  proceeding  ;  but  that  he  protests  against  it 
as  a  measure  contrary  to  the  first  principles  of  justice,  i  think 
this  will  be  far  better  than  getting  into  a  dispute  about  his  being 
more  or  less  concerned  ;  in  which  Reynolds  would  swear  what  he 
pleased,  which  could  not  be  disproved.  And  besides,  entering 
into  all  this  might  involve  Lady  Edward,  and  raise  a  spirit  against 
them  both.  All  this  would  be  avoided  by  your  counsel  not  at- 
tempting any  defence,  but  only  protesting  against  the  measure. 
I  am  also  clear  that  Lady  Edward  should  barely  petition  on  the 
same  grounds,  and  make  no  defence,  and,  above  all,  that  her  affi- 
davit should  not  be  produced.  The  protest  of  your  counsel  should 
also  be  renewed  when  the  bill  comes  on  in  the  House  of  Lords. 
Adieu,  ever  yours, 

"  Most  sincerely  and  affectionately, 

"  Richmond,  &c." 

from  colonel  napier  to  george  ponsonby,  esq. 

"Castletown,  August  15,  1798. 

"Dear  Sir, 

"  As  I  understand  there  is  much  merit  assumed  by  ministers 
for  their  lenity  in  excepting  Lord  Robert  Fitzgerald  from  the  con- 
sequences of  their  posthumous  malignity  to  Lord  Edward  and  his 
unfortunate  family,  and  that  they  attempt  to  deceive  the  world 
by  pretending  that  their  humane  condescension  secures  to  Lord 
Robert  and  his  heirs  the  honours  of  the  family,  I  trust  you  will 
excuse  my  taking  the  liberty  to  suggest  the  case  of  Earl  Kilmar- 
nock to  your  contemplation,  as  somewhat  in  point  on  the  present 
occasion.  He  was  tried,  attainted,  and  beheaded  during  the  life 
of  his  aunt,  the  Countess  of  Errol,  who,  on  her  demise  many 
years  subsequent  to  his  execution,  was  succeeded  in  her  title  and 
estate  by  his  son.  Lord  Boyd,  her  grand-nephew  ;  and  this  hap- 
pened without  any  renewal  of  the  attainder^  or  any  interference 
of  the  crown. 

''  I  shall  make  no  apology  for  troubling  you  with  this  letter, 
because  an  excuse  Avould  imply  a  doubt  of  the  sincerity  and  zeal 
with  Avhich  I  have  seen  you  adopt  the  cause  of  Lord  Edward's 
orphans,  whose  interest  on  this  occasion  is,  in  my  humble  opinion, 
intimately  blended  with  that  of  the  Constitution,  since  the  min- 
isters themselves  affirm,  they  are  neither  actuated  ))y  resentment 
against  the  dead  nor  malevolence  to  the  living.  I  theref(jre  con- 
ceive it  a  fair  logical  deduction  to  conclude,  that  the  measure  has 
'  plus  in  capite  quam  in  fronte  promittit ! '  and  having  long  ob- 


2t0  APPENDIX. 

served  the  subsisting  variance  between  these  'honourable  men' 
and  the  constitution,  I  can  divine  no  other  enemy  to  the  object  of 
their  unrelenting  hostility.  Our  slight  acquaintance  scarcely 
warrants  the  length  of  this  letter,  buc  there  are  some  subjects 
which  would  make  even  a  Spartan  prolix. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  be,  dear  sir, 

'•  Yours,  with  much  regard, 

"  Geo.  Napier." 

from  lady  sarah  napier  to  the  duke  of  richmond. 

Castletown,  August  26,  1798. 

"  My  Dearest  Brother, 

"  Yesterday  an  express  came  from  Sligo  to  give  notice  that 
three  French  frigates  were  on  the  coast ;  and  from  an  express 
this  moment  received  from  JNIr.  ConoUy,  who  is  at  Lord  Ross's, 
near  Enniskillen.  we  learn  that  eisrhtecii  hundred  men  are  landed. 
The  troops  of  course,  are  all  under  orders  for  immediate  move- 
ments: the  yeomanry  ordered  to  do  duty  again.  Lord  Cornwal- 
lis  probably  won't  neglect  all  possible  means  of  defence,  and  we 
hope  to  look  on  this  event  as  good  news  ;  for  where  the  governor 
is  an  honei>L  sincere,  and  able  character,  and  the  bulk  of  the  peo- 
ple sincerely  against  giving  up  the  kingdom  to  France,  surely  it 
is  a  good  thing  to  show  on  one  side,  to  republicans,  how  little 
chance  they  have  of  success  ;  and  on  the  other,  to  detestable 
leeches  of  their  country  that  icords  and  murders  are  not  the  way 
to  prove  loyalty,  but  danger  and  real  fighting.  We  shall  now  see 
who  is  the  true  or  the  soi-distant  friend  of  Ireland. 

'•  All  things  considered,  it  seems  not  to  have  given  any  sensible 
person  the  least  ahirm.  and  I  trust  will  prove  only  a  predatory 
descent.  I  will  write  you  word  what  bulletins  say.  for  more  we 
are  not  likely  to  know ;  and  yet  bulletins  were  so  false  in  Lord 
Camden's  reign,  that  they  were  not  to  be  depended  on  :  but  I  trust 
they  will  now  wear  the  fashion  of  the  times  which  Lord  Corn- 
wallis's  plain  dealing  seems  to  give,  for  nothing  ever  was  equal  to 
the  efiect  his  clemency  has  had  on  all.  Those  who  sincerely  ap- 
prove of  it  seem  relieved  from  anxious  misery  ;  those  who  affect 
to  approve  do  it  with  so  bad  a  grace  that  it  is  quite  ridiculous, 
and  many  abuse  him  openly  ;  so  that  the  Castle-yard  is  become  a 
medley  of  more  truth  than  ever  was  heard  in  it  for  years  past. 

"  I  say  nothing,  my  dearest  brother,  about  our  most  interesting 
subject  of  affliction  :  it  is  too  heart-rending  to  enter  on.  But 
what  you  would  never  suspect  possible  in  persons  who  ought  to 
be  so  tenderly  attached  to  my  beloved  sister,*  no  signs  of  feeling 
accompany  their  conduct.  She  feels  hurt  and  miserable,  yet  is  try- 
Lady  Louisa  Conollj. 


APPENDIX.  2Tl 

ing  to  conquer  her  feelings  not  to'  show  them  coolness.  0,  my 
dearest  brother,  she  is  not  made  for  this  world  :  her  angelic  mind 
passes  on  them  for  indifference,  and  almost  for  approbation  of 
their  conduct ;  so  little  do  iheij  know  her  who  ought  to  know  her 
well! 

••  This  whole  week  has  been  passed  in  accusing,  judging,  con- 
demning, and  ruining  the  characters  and  properties  of  poor  Ed- 
ward and  his  family  ;  and  on  Sunday  Lord  and  Lady  Castlereagh, 
]Mr.  and  Mrs.  P.,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  F.  have  made  a  party  to  come 
and  dine,  and  stay  here,  because  Lord  Hobart  comes;  so  that  all 
Dublin  will  hear  that  the  very  people  who  passed  the  week  in 
plunging  daggers  in  Louisa's  heart  hallow  the  seventh  day  by  a 
junket  to  her  house  !  Mrs.  P.  is  indeed  just  landed  from  Eng- 
land :  and  Mr.  P.,  we  have  reason  to  believe,  has  avoided  the 
House  of  Commons  as  much  as  he  could  ;  but  Lady  Castlereagh 
and  Mrs.  French  went  to  the  House  of  Commons  to  hear  their 
intimate  acquaintance^  Lady  Edward,  traduced  and  ruined  :  and  the 
nephew  of  their  aunt,  ]\Ir.  French,  spoke  for  the  bill  of  attain- 
der;  and  Lord  Castlereagh  I  firmly  believe  to  be  the  diief  mover 
and  pursuer  of  the  prosecution  against  Lady  Edward.  But  Louisa 
thinks  otherwise  ;  and,  therefore,  if  you  write,  say  nothing  on 
that  subjet  as  coming  from  me,  because  my  hatred  to  him  vexes 
her,  and  never  opens  her  eyes  at  all ;  therefore,  having  once  done 
my  duty  in  putting  her  on  her  guard  against  a  false  heart,  I  have 
done,  and  avoid  giving  her  the  least  additional  pain.  Adieu, 
dearest  brother,  "  Ever  yours, 

"  S.  N." 

FROM    THE    SAME    TO    THE    SAME. 

*«  Castletown,  29th  August,  1798. 

"  I  have  no  news  I  can  authenticate  as  coming  from  Lord  Corn- 
wallis.  dearest  brother :  but  from  Dublin  1  find  that  the  French 
landed  great  stores,  threw  up  works,  and,  on  finding  the  rebellion 
in  a  different  stage  from  what  they  expected,  are  trying  to  get 
off ;  but  it  is  believed  they  must  be  taken  by  land  or  by  sea,  as 
such  pains  are  taken  to  catch  them.  The  reports  of  risings  are 
terribly  manufactured  by  agitators  on  both  sides,  Orangemen  and 
rebels.  Government,  of  course,  keeps  it  down  as  much  as  pos- 
silile ;  so  that  you  see,  from  the  nature  of  such  a  critical  landing, 
one  cannot  expect  to  hear  truth,  and  one  must  trust  to  one's  own 
ju<lgment  on  the  reports. 

'•  From  what  we  learn  here,  1  think  numbers  are  on  the  wing, 
but  dare  not  fly,  because  they  still  doubt  the  success,  and  becau.se 
greater  numbers  by  far  plainly  declare  they  will  not  stir  from  their 
harvest-work,  and  that  they  will  fight  the  French,  who  are  only 
come  to  rob  them  of  the  harvest.     Besides  this,  there  are,  to  my 


2t2  APPENDIX. 

certain  knowledge,  a  set  of  the  worst  rebels  who  have  offered  tho 
officer  of  the  city  Cork  militia  quartered  here  to  set  off  under  his 
command,  and  with  his  soldiers  (famous  anti-rebels,  but  not  Orange- 
men) to  attack  the  French  3  and  also,  to  my  certain  knowledge, 
there  is  a  banditti  here  who  are  trying  to  muster  up  a  little  corps 
of  robbers,  who,  at  all  events,  will  enrich  themselves,  and  per- 
haps appear  under  the  name  of  United  I.  if  the  French  succeed, 
and  by  that  means  evade  law.  So  now  you  have  the  pro  and  cou 
in  a  small  circle. 

"  I  suspect  the  same  sentiments  are  in  the  balance  in  ths 
larger  scale,  and  that  Lord  Cornwallis,  by  taking  the  field  with 
ten  thousand  men,  has  two  objects  :  the  first  to  secure  the  banks 
of  the  Shannon,  which  form  a  barrier  to  all  Connaught,  and  pre- 
vent a  junction  of  French  and  northern  enemies  ;  secondly,  if  it 
all  melts  away,  he  relies  on  his  own  conduct  at  the  head  of  a 
large  army  to  impress  the  guilty  with  fear,  and  the  doubtful  with 
confidence,  in  his  government  and  his  character.  If  I  am  right, 
I  hope  we  shall  soon  see  the  good  effects  of  his  government,  not- 
withstanding the  dreadful  villany  with  which  every  principle  he 
holds  out  seems  to  be  counteracted  in  an  underhand  way. 

"  I  will  not  enter  on  the  subject  of  the  attainder,  as  I  have 
hitherto  been  so  careful  not  to  mention  what  appears  to  me  to  ad- 
mit of  such  deep  researches  before  one  can  venture  to  assert  any 
thing  on  the  subject ;  but  the  newspaper  and  common  accounts 
I  will  transcribe.  On  a  long  and  interesting  debate,  in  which 
Mr.  Egan  spoke  finely,  the  third  reading  came  on  Monday,  and 
the  votes  42  to  9.  It  is  said,  '  many  people  who  would  have 
voted  against  the  bill,  seeing  so  large  a  majority,  wont  out : '  from 
which  it  appears,  that  these  persons  (who  certainly  prove  one 
cannot  serve  God  and  Mammon),  finding  their  interest  in  opposi- 
tion to  their  conscience,  left  the  field  at  the  moment  of  conquest ; 
for  had  they  staid  the  division  might  have  run  equal ;  and  had 
the  vote  been  delayed  one  day,  ]Mr.  Conolly,  just  come  up  to 
town  yesterday,  would  have  added  one,  and  the  Duke  of  Leinster, 
expected  to-day,  would  perhaps  have  influenced  others.  By  a 
near  vote  the  question  would  have  come  into  the  House  of  Lords 

with  double  strength  for  opposition  • — but  what  then  1    Lord 

has,  with  his  usual  weakness  of  character,  been  frightened  out  of 
his  zeal  by  the  chancellor,  I  suppose,  though  I  don't  know  more 
than  that  he  jiinches. 

'•  The  chancellor,  I  suppose  you  heard,  said,  with  his  wonted 
dictatorial  style,  that  your  queries  were  inadmissible ;  *  and,  of 

*  The  following  are  the  queries  here  alluded  to  as  having  been  submitted  by  the 
Duke  of  Richmond  to  Lord  Clare  : — 

"  1st.  Whether  it  be  consistent  with  the  known  constitutional  justice  and  laws 
of  the  land  to  institute  a  criminal  proceeding  against  a  man  after  his  decease, 
and  to  hear  evidence  against  him  when  he  cannot  be  heard  iu  his  defence  ? 


APPENDIX.  273 

course,  it  required  no  very  great  spirit  of  prophecy,  I  think,  to 
be  assured,  as  I  was  from  the  beginning,  that  '  to  con,sult  with 
one's  enemy  how  one  is  to  beat  him'  was  not  a  very  probable 
means  of  conquering." 


FROM   THE    RIGHT    HON.    CHARLES   JAMES    FOX    TO   LORD    HENRY 

FITZGERALD. 

"  My  DEAR  Henry, 

"  I  have  not  written  hitherto  because  I  had  nothing  to  suggest 
to  be  done  for  our  poor  Edward's  heirs,  and  partly  because  [  hwid 
hoped,  from  an  account  in  the  newspaper  (which  I  now  find  was 
an  erroneous  one)  that  the  business  was  dropped.  1  see  a  petition 
has  been  presented  from  Lady  Edward  on  ]>ehalf,  as  I  suppose,  of 
her  children  as  well  as  herself;  but  I  cannot  express  the  degree 
to  which  I  am  astonished  at  not  seeing  any  notice  taken  of  this 
abominable  proceeding  in  any  of  the  newspapers,  who  are  con- 
stantly praising  Lord  Cornwallis's  clemency,  at  a  time  when  a  bill 
is  going  on  exceeding  in  injustice  and  tyranny  all  the  past. 

••  J  do  not  know  how  poor  Edward's  property  was  disposed  of, 
nor  whether  his  children  inherit  from  him  by  will,  by  settlement, 
or  as  heirs-at-law  ;  nor,  perhaps,  is  this  material,  but  1  should  like 
to  know.  Dr.  Brovra,  of  the  College,  who  is  the  only  attending 
member  of  the  Irish  parliament  that  I  am  acquainted  with,  is,  I 
hear,  in  England  ;  but  if  you  think  it  would  be  of  any  use  that 
the  Ponsonbys  should  be  written  to,  that  may  easily  be  done.  My 
opinion  is,  that  nothing  can  be  of  any  use  unless  it  were  a  strong 
representation  to  Lord  Cornwallis.  nor  should  I  hope  much  even 
from  that :  but  my  opinion  still  is,  that  the  thing  is  too  bad  to  be 
possible,  and  yet,  after  all  that  has  been  done,  this  is.  perhaps,  a 
foolish,  and  certainly  a  sanguine  opinion.  I  know  how  the  whole 
of  this  subject  affects  you,  but  in  the  present  moment  it  is  im- 
possible not  to  think  upon  it. 

"  Yours,  ever  affectionately, 

"  C.  J.  Fox. 

"  P.  S.  If  the  bill  should  pass  the  Irish  parliament,  I  think 
there  should  certainly  be  a  petition  to  the  king  against  it,  in 
which,  I  take  for  granted,  the  Duke  of  Richmond  would  con- 
cur." 

"  2cl.  Whether  it  be  consistent  with  the  known  constitutional  justice  and  laws 
of  the  land,  upon  such  a  proceeding,  to  adjudge  a  man  guilty  who  has  not  been 
convicted  or  tried  while  living  ? 

"3d.  Whether  it  be  consistent  with  the  known  constitutional  justice  and  laws 
of  the  land  to  make  such  a  judgment  the  foundation  of  a  further  proceeding  to 
affect  the  property  of  his  heirs  ?  '  •' 


2t4  APPENDIX, 

FROM  LADY  SARAH  NAPIER  TO  THE  DUKE  OF  RICHMOND. 

"  Castletown,  September  2d,  1798. 

"  No  news  of  any  importance  has  yet  reached  us,  my  dearest 
brother,  but  your  own  judgment  must  point  out  to  you  the  doubt- 
ful state  of  Ireland,  wliicli  entirely  depends  on  the  French  land- 
ing in  suflBcient  force  to  make  it  worth  while  for  all  U.  1.  men  to 
join  them;  and  even  then  it  would,  I  trust,  be  more  than  they  can 
accomplish  to  surmount,  the  immense  number  of  persons  of  com- 
mon sense  who  dread  a  French  government,  and  will,  with  sincere 
zeal,  join  their  efforts  to  give  the  army  under  Lord  Cornwollis  their 
utmost  help.  Not  so,  had  Lord  Camden  and  Lord  Carhampton 
remained  ;  for  no  human  being  can  bring  themselves  to  depend 
on  the  weak  or  ignorant,  or  on  the  false  help  they  lend.  It  is 
like  the  description  of  Egypt  in  the  Bible  : — •  Trust  not  to  Fgj'pt, 
for  like  the  broken  reed  she  will  bruise  thy  seed  if  thou  rest  upon 
her.'  So  that  we  must  consider  the  moment  in  which  Lord  Corn- 
wallis  was  fixed  on  to  come  here  as  salvation  to  Ireland  ]  for  the 
balance  turned  instantly  on  his  coming,  and  disposed  the  common 
people  to  consider  the  change  of  government  as  an  object  within 
their  sphere.  They  told  my  sister  and  I,  '  Sure  this  is  a  brave  man 
they've  sint  us  now  ;  he  holds  the  swoord  of  war  and  the  swoord 
of  pore,  and  sure  we  may  do  as  we  like  now.' 

•■  This  in  two  words  shows  you  they  consider  him  as  a  respect- 
able being  whom  it  is  worth  while  to  be  cautious  in  attacking, 
and  Paddy  is  shrewd  enough  if  he  gives  himself  time  to  thiriJc. 
Now  as  this  landing  is  (hitherto)  only  18U0  men  at  the  most,  and 
called  by  government  7U0  only,  Paddy  has  full  leisure  to  think, 
and  does  think,  I  promise  you,  on  this  occasion.  For  example, 
about  200  stragglers  have  joined  the  French,  who  began  by  hang- 
ing eight  men  for  giving  false  information.  Poor  Faddy  never 
thought  one  was  to  be  hanged  for  lying,  and  is  wofully  discom- 
posed. Then  the  French  put  the  rebels  in  front  of  the  battle, 
and  this  was  not  civil ;  consequently,  Paddy  is  all  ears  and 
ej'es  just  now,  but  steadily  at  harvest,  securing  the  main  chance; 
for  if  the  French  land  in  force,  and  gain  battle  after  battle,  then 
it  is  time  after  harvest  to  join  with  their  pockets  full  of  money. 

'•  This,  according  to  my  own  observation,  is  the  general  state  of 
mind  of  rebellious  subjects ;  and  of  good  subjects  one  may  easily 
guess  the  state  of  anxiety,  as  so  much  depends  on  chance.  We 
do  not  yet  hear  of  any  other  landing  :  and  if  they  try,  you  know 
there  is,  thank  God  !  many  a  chance  in  our  favour  both  by  sea 
and  land.  In  short  to  be  frightened  is  folly ;  to  be  anxious  is  na- 
tural and  unavoidable  :  for  on  private  accounts  one  must  feel 
strong  sensatiuns  of  fear  about  individuals  now  exposed  to  battle 

any  day  against  an  active,  brave,  and  clever  enemy. 

*  4t  '  ^  »  « 


APPENDIX.  275 

"  Lord  Yelrerton  has  made  a  charming  declaration  on  the  sec- 
ond reading  of  the  bill  of  attainder  in  the  House  of  Lords,  which 
bill  has  been  tried  to  be  hurried  through  with  shameful  haste,  but 
now,  1  trust,  the  protest  will  have  an  excellent  protector.  The 
Duke  of  Leinster.*  just  arrived,  safe  and  well  — wretchedly  low, 
poor  soul !  My  dearest  brother,  how  every  thing  gives  me  reason 
to  love  you  better  and  better  every  day  !     Adieu, 

"  Believe  me  ever  yours." 

In  a  subsequent  letter  from  the  same  lively  pen,  the  fair  writer 
says,  '■  I  hope  you  Avill  read  all  the  debates  on  the  attainder  bill ; 
and  not  wonder  if  the  Irish  parliament  now  tempts  one  to  wish 
for  a  union  w'ith  England,  to  mortify  those  lawgivers  to  their 
country  who  have  made  so  unjust  a  use  of  their  power  over  their 
countrymen."  The  declaration  of  the  chief  baron.  Lord  Yelver- 
ton,  referred  to  in  the  foregoing  letter,  was  to  the  effect  that  he 
"would  oppose  the  bill  as  unjust,  illegal,  and  inconsistent  with 
the  gracious  principle  of  mercy  and  lenience,  which  formed  the 
leading  character  of  Lord  Cornwallis"s  administration.'' 

In  the  course  of  the  debates  on  the  subject.  Lord  Clare  said, 
with  considerable  feeling,  in  referring  to  some  circumstances  con- 
nected with  Lord  Edward's  death,  that  "  he  well  remembered 
them,  for  a  short  time  before  the  death  took  place  he  was  witness 
to  one  of  the  most  painful  and  melancholy  scenes  he  had  ever  ex- 
perienced."' 

FROM    LADY    SARAH    NAPIER    TO    THE    DUKE    OF    RICHMOND. 

"  September  11,  1798. 

"  My  Dear  Brother, 
^'  The  bulletin,!  which  I  cannot  get,  but  which  will  be  in  the 

*  I  avail  myself  of  the  mention  here  of  this  most  amiable  nobleman  to  say  a 
few  words  relative  to  his  short  secession  from  the  whig  party  in  17S8,  to  which 
somewhat  too  strong  a  character  maj'  seem  to  have  been  given  in  the  first  part 
of  this  work.  It  appears  from  Hardy  (Memoirs  of  Lord  Charlemonl),  who  does  but 
justice  to  the  character  of  the  duke  in  describing  him  as  •'  proverbially  liberal," 
that  not  only  his  grace,  but  the  greater  number  of  the  Irish  whigs  of  that  period, 
were  so  far  satisfied  with  the  Marquis  of  Buckingham's  administration,  as  during 
the  whole  cf  the  session  of  1788  to  offer  but  little,  if  any,  opposition  to  his  gov- 
ernment. -The  charge,  indeed,"  adds  Hardy,  '-against  this  opposition  diflefed 
totally  from  the  general  accusations  preferred  against  tbem.  They  were  not  said 
to  endanger  public  tranquility,  but  they  gave  no  unnecessary  molestation  to  gov- 
ernment, and  were  therefore  guilty,  according  to  some  persons,  of  the  most  inex- 
piable crime."  The  Duke  of  Leinster,  it  is  true,  was  one  of  those  who.  by  taking 
office,  gave  a  more  decided  sanction  to  the  government  ;  but  the  general  leaning 
of  his  own  pu'ty  in  the  same  direction  took  from  his  conduct  on  that  occasion  all 
that  in  the  remotest  degree  deserves  the  name  of  apos'.acy. 

f  The  bulletin  which  gave  an  account  of  the  surrender  to  General  Lake,  of  Hum- 
bert and  his  small  army,  at  Ballinamuck.  •■  It  must  ever  remain,"  says  Plowden, 
"  a  humiliating  reflection  upon  the  lusire  and  power  of  the  British  arms,  that  bo 
pitiful  a  detachment  as  that  of  eleven  hundred  French  infantry  should,  in  a  king- 


276  APPENDIX. 

papers,  I  suppose,  will  tell  you  all  the  particulars  vre  know,  and 
General  Lake's  panegyrics  on  every  body  will  speak  for  them- 
selves. *  -H-  -Sfr  * 
Your  curiosity  will  naturally  lead  you  to  wish  for  information 
relative  to  the  minds  of  the  Irish  on  this  occasion.  The  little 
information  1  can  give  you  will  lead  you  to  judge  for  yourself. 
In  a  letter  from  a  very  sensible,  good  man  in  the  North,  who  heads 
a  yeomanry  corps,  are  these  words  : — 

"  '  What  1  foretold  in  February  has  now  taken  place, — that  dis- 
tinction of  religions  would  produce  the  worst  evils.  The  live 
corps  of  this  garrison  are  equally  divided  in  persuasions,  and  did 
live  in  the  most  perfect  cordiality  till  now,  when  within  these  few 
days  there  has  arisen  dissensions  almost  coming  to  blows.  The 
cause  of  this  change  in  the  minds  of  the  men  is  occasioned  by 
the  pains  taken  by  persons  in  ofl&cial  departments  to  form  Orange 
lodges,  which  has  had  the  most  pernicious  effects.  My  own  opin- 
ions have  never  changed ;  but  1  wish  to  ask  you  a  question,  not 
from  mere  idle  curiosity,  but  to  determine  my  own  conduct.  As 
these  lodges  are  formed  by  persons  in  of&cial  departments,  am  [ 
to  consider  them  as  sanctioned  and  approved  of  by  government  ? 
for,  though  my  own  principles  are  the  same  as  before,  I  should 
be  extremely  sorry,  at  this  critical  period,  to  show  any  opposition 
to  a  measure  that  government  may  consider  as  conducive  to  the 
general  good ;.  and  should  it  be  against  my  principles,  I  shall  re- 
tire from  the  scene.' 

'•  This  letter,  dated  September,  proves  that  what  Lord  Cornwallis 
positively  asserted  as  his  most  anxious  wishes  in  July  is  not  at- 
tended to  by  those  in  office  out  of  his  sight.  The  consequence  of 
a  government  that  is  undermining  its  governor  you  will  know. 
This  renewal  of  ill  blood  will  have  its  etfect  in  time,  if  not  stop- 
ped;  but,  for  the  present,  the  North  seems  perfectly  quiet,  the 
JSouth  the  same.  In  Leitrim,  Longford,  Westmeath,  &c.,  the 
risings  were  sudden,  and  as  suddenly  quelled,  you  see.  Yet  in 
these  very  counties  are  numberless  proofs  of  the  attachment  of 
the  tenants,  who  flocked  to  their  landlords"  houses  to  guard  them, 
and  behaved  with  all  possible  merit,  industrious,  grateful,  and 
generous, — for  they  went  and  reaped  the  corn  in  great  bodies,  to  save 
it  for  their  landlords. 

•'  In  our  neighbourhood,  which  I  may  well  entitle  the  doubtfuls, 
I  can  read  my  neighbours"  thoughts  in  their  eyes,  in  the  tone  of 
their  voices,  their  gait. — in  short,  on  connoit  son  monde,  with  a 

dom  ia  which  there  was  an  armed  force  of  above  150,000  men,  have  not  only  put 
to  rout  a  select  army  of  six  thousand  men  prepared  to  resist  the  invaders,  but 
have  also  provided  themselves  with  ordnance  and  ammunition  from  our  stores, 
taken  several  of  our  towns,  marched  122  Irish  (above  150  English)  miles  through 
the  country,  and  kept  arms  in  their  victorious  hands  for  seventeen  days  in  the 
heart  of  an  armed  kingdom." 


APPENDIX.  27 1 

very  little  observation.  They  are  all  ears,  and  distrust  all  they 
hear.  They  watch  to  take  the  ton  from  Dublin,  their  constant 
traffic  with  which  makes  intelligence  come  like  lightning  to  them, 
though  not  to  us.  They  at  first  disbelieved  the  surrender  of  the 
French  ;  they  now  believe  it,  and  put  a  good  face  on  it,  still  han- 
kering after  a  chance  of  a  new  force  which  is  Collecting  in  Wick- 
low,  under  a  clever  man  called  Holt,  who  rejects  mob,  and  chooses 
his  associates.  This  keeps  up  the  flame  ;  and  while  it  burns,  all 
those  who  persuade  themselves  that  they  acted  on  principle  only, 
and  those  who  have  gone  too  far  to  retreat,  besides  those  whom 
ill  usage  has  worked  up  into  revenge,  all  reluctantly  give  up 
hopes  of  success.  Yet  their  own  judgments  noiv  have  fair  play-; 
they  see  the  lower  order  quite  tired  of  the  business ;  they  see  a 
vast  number  who  loudly  proclaim  their  determination  to  stick  to 
the  promise  they  made  to  old  General  Dundas,*  who  is  their  hero  ; 
for  not  one  of  those  he  forgave  has  returned  to  the  rebels.  They 
see  the  tide  is  against  them;  and,  in  short,  I  can  perceive  by 
their  countenances  that  they  are  low,  and  sorry,  and  fearful. 
But  if  they  once  give  the  point  up,  they  will  return  to  all  their 
work  with  a  heavy,  but  not  a  sulky,  heart:  for  they  are  nearly 
convinced  they  are  conquered  by/a^e,  not  hj  force,  and  you  must 
know  that  all  the  common  people  are  predestinarians,  which  is  a 
great  cause  of  their  hardy  courage  for  moments,  and  their  seem- 
ing indiiference  about  death.  They  have  very  little  shame  about 
running  away,  being  convinced  they  are  reserved  for  another  fight 

hj  fate,  and  not  by  their  running.  *  * 

*  *  ***** 

From  all  these  circumstances,  one  may,  I  think,  decide,  that  all 
depends  on  there  being  no  more  landings  ;  for,  if  any  succeed, 
risings  will  follow  of  course.  Yet,  after  all,  we  have  such  mil- 
lions of  chances  now  in  our  favour,  that  there  is  nothing  to  alarm 
one ;  since  the  United  Irishmen,  by  their  own  confessions,  seem 
to  have  so  very  little  head  or  plan,  that  no  reasonable  being  could 
for  a  moment  depend  on  their  government,  even  if  they  coidd  con- 
quer all  Ireland  ;  so  that  the  whole  plan,  whether  of  French,  Irish, 
Presbyterian,  or  Catholic  extraction,  seems  dissolved  into  impos- 
sibilitieS;  and  can  no  longer  be  a  bugbear  now,  I  think,  by  which 
government  can  frighten  the  world  into  approbation  of  despotism. 
Lord  Cornwallis  has  undoubtedly  saved  this  country  from  a  still 
more  bloody  war,  which  was  to  have  been  expected ;  but  the 
United  Irishmen  themselves  have  proved  they  never  could  have 
kept  Ireland. 

''  1  ought  to  apologize  for  all  my  political  and  private  accounts 
of  the  state  of  the  country,  when  you  certainly  must  hear  it  from 

*  A  compact  entered  into  by  General  Dundas  with  the  rebels  in  the  county  of  Kil- 
dare,  for  which  he  was  much  censured,  but  which,  like  erery  step  of  conciliation 
or  justice  towards  the  Irish,  was  productive  of  tlie  best  effects. 


2T8  APPENDIX. 

much  better  judges  and  better  authority;  but  when  the  whole 
conversations  of  societies  is  turned  on  poHtical  causes  which  im- 
mediately concern  every  individual,  one  can  scarce  take  up  a  pen 
and  steer  clear  of  them.  Indeed,  there  is  but  one  other  subject 
that  comes  across  us,  and  it  is  not  pleasant  to  dwell  on  it,  though 
one  part  of  it  is  so'gratifying  to  my  very  sincere  affection  for  you, 
my  dearest  brotiier,  that  1  cannot  refrain  from  expressing  it. 
From  Mary  I  hear  a  thousand  particulars  of  your  goodness  to 
poor  Lady  Kdward.  which  1  know  the  full  value  of.  I  can  trace 
your  genei'ous  attention  to  all  her  feelings :  your  spirited  resist- 
ance to  the  torrent  that  ran  against  her ;  your  protecting  hand 
that  shielded  her  hopeless  situation  from  the  most  aggravating 
circumstances.  You  gently  said  in  a  letter  to  my  sister,  •  she  is 
not  popular.'  I  own  I  was  struck  with  the  expression,  and  won- 
dered how  you.  who  could  hear  nothing  of  her  but  through  her 
family,  should  have  heard  so  (though  it  is  true  in  Dublin)  ;  but  I 
now  find  from  Mary,  that  the  very  common  people  had  imbibed 
prejudice  against  her.  poor  little  soul,  to  a  degree  that  is  quite 
horrible,  yet  a  well-known  characteristic  of  the  English  nation. 
What  is  to  become  of  her  my  dear  brother  ?  I  pity  her  from  my 
soul,  for  her  elevated  mind  will  suffer  torture  from  the  necessity 
of  being  under  obligations  to  many,  and  I  fear  no  one  individual 
can,  at  this  time,  soften  the  bitter  pangs  of  adverse  fortune  by 
generously  giving  her,  under  the  tender  tie  of  affection,  an  income 
equal  to  procuring  her  a  comfortable  situation.  Pride  has  nothing 
to  do  with  affection.  Obligations  from  those  who  know  how  to 
grant  them  nobly  become  a  pleasure  to  the  receiver  as  long  as  he 
perceives  the  giver  is  gratified  by  the  gift ;  but  so  very,  very  few 
can  and  will  be  such  givers,  that  1  fear  she  will  be  subject  to 
all  those  feelings  which  poverty  is  most  unjustly  expected  not  to 
Iiace.  and  which  only  belong  to  poverty; — feelings,  the  nature  of 
which  induces  one  to  examine,  consider,  and  value  the  nature  of 
every  gift. 

'•  \Vhen  I  reflect,  as  I  often  do,  on  poor  Lady  Edward's  fate,  I 
cannot  help  comparing  it  to  my  own  :  and  in  proportion  as  my 
own  unworthiness  of  all  the  blessings  I  have  had  and  the  kindness 
1  have  received  strikes  my  recollection,  my  warmest  wishes  arise 
that  she,  whose  misfortunes  have  arisen  only  from  the  strongest 
attachment  to  her  dear  husband,  may  meet  with  the  same  protec- 
tection  from  heaven,  and  on  earth  from  friends,  as  I  have  done. 
The  former  I  am  sure  she  will ;  the  latter  is  more  doubtful,  yet.  I 
hope,  will  not  fail ;  though  circumstances  alter  the  mind  of  man 
so  much  one  can  never  be  sure.  Yet  surely,  in  this  instance,  the 
world  would  wonder  if  the  widow  and  orphans  of  a  man  adored 
by  his  family  are  not  pul)licly  supported  by  that  very  family  who 
acknowledge  her  attachment  to  him.  A  stranger,  an  orphan  her- 
self, lovely  in  her  appearance,  great  in  her  character,  persecuted, 


APPENDIX. 


219 


ruined,  and  banished;  her  name  so  well  known  as  to  be  brought 
into  the  history  of  the  country  ;  that  Itistonj  will  of  itself  be  the 
test  of  the  generosity  of  her  family  connexions  or  their  disi,n-a4;e. 
I  wish  those  who  should  first  step  forward  saw  it  in  the  hght  I  do, 
which,  exclusive  of  affection  for  her,  is  of  importance,  I  think,  to 
the  family.  Adieu,  my  dear  brother,  ever  most  affectionately 
yours,  »->•  ■'■^  • 

Having  passed  the  House  of  Lords,  the  bill  of  attainder  was,  at 
the  latter  end  of  September,  sent  to  England  to  receive  the  royal 
assent ;  and  though  there  could  be  but  httle  hope  at  that  stage  of 
arresting  its  progress,  the  friends  of  the  femily  were  resolved  to 
make  one  more  effort,  and  address  a  petition  to  the  king.  To  Sir 
Arthur  Pigott  the  task  of  drawing  up  their  appeal  was  intrusted  ; 
and  it  is  with  much  pleasure  1  find  myself  enabled  to  lay  this 
document  before  my  readers,  as  a  composition  more  admirable 
for  its  purpose,  more  precious  as  an  example  of  the  adroitness  and 
power  with  which  rhetoric  and  logic  may  be  made  subservient  to 
each  other,  has  rarely,  perhaps,  been  written. 

"  TO    THE    king's    MOST    EXCELLENT    MAJESTY." 

"  The  humble  petition  of  Henry  Fitzgerald,  Esq.,  commonly 
called  Lord  Henry  Fitzgerald,  Charles,  Duke  of  Richmond, 
William  Ogilvie,   Esq.,   Charles  James  Fox,   Esq.,  Henry 
Edward  Fox,  Esq.,  and  Henry  Richard,  Lord  Holland ; 
For  and  on  behalf  of  Edward  Fitzgerald,  an  infant  of  the  age  of 
four  years,  or  thereabouts,  only  son  and  heir  of  Edward  Fitzger- 
ald, Esq.,  lately  deceased,  commonly  called  Lord  Edward  Fitzger- 
ald ;  and  for  and  on  behalf  of  Pamela  Fitzgerald,  an  infant  of  the 
age  of  tAvo  years,  or  thereabouts,  and  of  Lucy  Fitzgerald,  an  infant 
of  the  age  of  four  months,  or  thereabouts,  daughters  of  the  said 
Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald ;  and  for  and  on  behalf  also  of  Pamela 
Fitzgerald,  widow  of  the  said  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald, 

'•'  Showeth, 
'•'That  the  said  Edward  Fitzgerald,  Esq.,  commonly  called  Lord 
Edward  Fitzgerald,  departed  this  life  on  or  about  the  fourth  day  of 
June  last,  being  at  the  time  of  his  death  seised  of  some  real  estate, 
situated  in  Ireland,  and  also  possessed  of  some  personal  estate, 
which  by  his  death  became  vested  in  his  said  infant  children  as  his 
heir-at-law  and  sole  next  of  kin,  according  to  their  respective 
titles  to  the  said  real  and  personal  estates,  subject  to  the  right 
of  his  said  widow  to  be  endowed  out  of  the  real,  and  to  receive 
her  share  of  the  personal  estate. 

••  That  the  said  Pamela  Fitzgerald,  the  widow  of  the  said  Lord 
Edward  Fitzgerald,  is  at  present  absent  from  this  kingdom,  on 


280  APPENDIX. 

•which  account  alone,  as  your  petitioners  have  reason  to  believe, 
she  is  not  in  her  own  person  a  party  to  this  petition. 

'•  That  your  majesty's  petitioner,  Henry  Fitzgerald,  is  a  guardian 
of  the  persons  and  estates  of  the  said  infants,  and  that  he  and 
your  majesty's  other  petitioners  are  near  relations  of  the  said 
infant  children. 

••'  That  your  petitioners  have  observed,  with  great  concern,  that 
a  bill  has  been  passed  by  the  parliament  of  Ireland,  and  trans- 
mitted for  your  majesty's  royal  assent,  for,  among  other  purposes, 
the  attainder  of  the  said  Edward  Fitzgerald,  Esq.,  commonly 
called  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald^  under  the  title  of  '  A  Bill  for  the 
attainder  of  Edward  Fitzgerald.  Cornelius  Grogan,  and  Beauchamp 
Benegal  Harvey,  deceased,  of  high  treason,'  or  some  such  title, 
reciting,  alleging,  and  assuming,  as  the  cause  and  foundation  of 
the  said  bill,  that  the  said  Edward  Fitzgerald  did.  durinsr  the 
period  of  his  life,  since  the  first  day  of  November,  1797,  commit 
and  perpetrate  several  acts  of  high  treason,  by  conspiring  toge- 
ther with  several  false  traitors  to  raise  and  stir  up  insurrection  and 
rebellion  within  this  kingdom  (Ireland),  and  by  endeavuuring  to 
persuade  the  enemies  of  our  lord  the  king  to  invade  this  his  king- 
dom of  Ireland,  and  did,  in  pursuance  of  the  said  treason,  commit 
several  overt  acts  with  intent  to  depose  and  dethrone  the  king, 
and  subvert  and  overthrow  the  government  of  this  his  kin>rdom 
of  Ireland  :  and  further  reciting;  that  several  other  false  traitors 
who  were  concerned  in  the  said  treasons  and  rebellion  have 
already  received  their  trials  at  law  for  the  same,  and  have  been 
convicted,  and,  by  judgment  of  law  thereupon  had,  do  now  stand 
dully  and  legally  attainted  : 

''  The  said  bill  therefore  enacts  (among  other  things),  that  the 
said  Edward  Fitzgerald,  commonly  called  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald, 
deceased,  shall  be  adjudged  to  be  convicted  and  attainted  of  high 
treason  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  as  if  he  had  been  attainted  dur- 
ing his  Ife: 

•'■  And  further  enacts  (among  other  things),  that  all  and  every 
the  manors,  messuages,  lands,  tenements,  &c.,  and  all  other  the 
heredits.  leases  for  years,  chattels  real,  and  other  things  of  what 
nature  soever  they  be,  of  the  said  Edward  Fitzgerald,  which  he 
or  any  other  person  to  his  use  or  in  trust  for  him  had  on  the  first 
day  of  November,  1707,  shall  be  forfeited  to  his  majesty,  and  shall 
be  deemed  to  be  in  the  actual  seisin  and  possession  of  his  majesty, 
without  any  inquisition  or  ofl&ce  taken  or  found :  and  that  all  and 
every  other  the  goods,  and  debts,  and  other  the  chattels,  personal 
whatsoever  of  the  said  Edward  Fitzgerald,  whereof  upon  the  first 
of  March,  1798,  he  or  any  person  in  trust  for  him  stood  possesiied 
either  in  law  or  equity,  ^hall  be  deemed  forfeit,  and  are  vested  in 
his  majesty,  without  any  inquisition  or  office  found.  And  several 
provisions  follow  for  declaring  void  all  subsequent  alienations  and 


APPENDIX.  281 

transfers  whatsoever  of  the  property  of  the  said  Edward  Fitzger- 
ald, and  also  all  previous  alienations  and  transfers  except  for 
valuable  consideration. 

"  Your  petitioners  conceive  it  to  be  their  duty  to  the  said  infant 
children  and  absent  widow  of  the  late  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald 
humbly  to  represent  to  your  majesty  that  the  said  bill  is  contrary 
to  the  first  and  most  sacred  principles  of  law,  of  justice,  and  of 
the  constitution  ;  as  it  intends,  by  special  and  arbitrary  provisions, 
neither  known  to  the  law  of  Ireland  nor  analogous  to  any  of  its 
just  and  wise  maxims,  to  despoil  the  innocent  family  of  the  said 
Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  of  that  property  which  upon  his  death 
vested  in  them,  and  which  the  law  secures  to  them  by  the  same 
sanctions  and  protections  under  which  all  the  rest  of  your  ma- 
jesty's subjects,  both  in  England  and  Ireland,  enjoy  their  lives, 
liberties,  and  property. 

'•The  best  security,  sire,  against  the  injustice,  the  passion,  and 
violence  which  frequently  characterize   the  partial,   occasional, 
and  arbitrary  acts  of  power,  wherever  it  is  placed,  is  the  observ- 
ance of  the  steady  course  of  general  and  equal  law ;  which,  as 
it  ascertains  the  obligations,  secures  alike  the  rights  of  all,  and 
impartially  applies  its  rules  and  maxims,  through  the  medium  of 
its  tribunals,  to  the  actions  of  individuals.     But  whatever  may 
be  the  censures  which  have  been  by  grave  and  weighty  authorities 
pronounced  upon  bills  of  attainder  in  general,  whatever  the  irre- 
gularities and  deviations  from  the  rules  of  law  or  principles  of 
justice  which  have  sometimes  attended  their  progress,  into  these 
we  do  not  presume  to  enter ;  because  we  apprehend  that  bills  of 
attainder  of  living  persons,  or  the  motives  which  lead  to  them,  or 
the  maxims  Avhich  govern  them,  do  not  apply  to  the  present  bill. 
We  are  aware  that  the  Scdus  Populi,  of  which  the  legislature,  we 
know,  must  judge, — that  the  security  of  the  government,  of  which 
the  legislature  is,  we  know,  the  guard, — may  sometimes,  though 
very  rarely,  be  supposed  to  render  necessary  an  anomalous  and 
extraordinary  proceeding,  which  certainly  dispenses  with  some  of 
the  most  valuable  securities  for  the  life,  liberty,  and  property  of 
the  subject.     But  these  are  still  proceedings  against  living  men  ; 
and,  at  least,  the  never  varying  and  eternal  principle  of  justice, 
not  to  condemn  and  punish  unheard^  is  not  violated.     In  a  proceed- 
ing in  parliament,  as  on  the  trial  of  an  indictment,  the  accused, 
if  living,  may  make  a  full  defence;  has  the  important  privilege 
of  answering  the  charge;  cross-examining  the  witnesses  against 
him  ;  contradicting  their  testimony  ;  showing  their  incompetence 
to  be  heard,  or  incredibility  when  heard  ;  and  of  availing  himself 
of  all  other  means  by  which  falsehood  is  demonstrated  or  inno- 
cence established.     He  has  the  use  of  his  own  talents,  and  the 
assistance  of  the  talents  of  others  ;  and  it  should  not  be  forgotten, 
that  he  has  the  opportunity  and  advantage  of  exposing  the  errors 


282  APPENDIX. 

and  ignorance  of  his  adversaries.  And  in  whatever  human  tri- 
bunal charge  is  made  or  accusation  preferred,  no  experience  will 
contradict  the  assertion  that  it  is  most  frequently  in  the  power  of 
the  accused  alone  to  furnish  the  means  of  his  own  defence,  to  de- 
tect fraud,  to  make  falsehood  manifest,  to  develope  motives,  to 
unravel  events,  to  point  out  time,  place,  persons,  the  whole  train 
of  circumstances  which  discriminate  human  actions,  and,  by  im- 
parting to  them  their  true  colour  and  real  character,  either  as- 
sert and  protect  innocence,  or  fix  and  ascertain  the  exact  shade 
and  precise  gradation  of  guilt,  where  guilt  does  exist.  But  these 
inestimable  privileges  are  the  privileges  only  of  the  living  :  and 
accordingly  the  wisdom,  and  justice,  and  mercy,  and  decorum  of 
the  law  of  England  (and  we  believe  the  law  of  Ireland  is  not 
different)  confine  its  jurisdiction  to  the  living,  to  those  who  can 
hold  communion  with  parliaments  and  courts,  with  judges  and 
juries,  with  counsel,  and  attorneys  and  witnesses.  But  our  law 
teaches  us.  that  as  the  persons  of  those  on  whom  the  tomb  is 
closed  are  no  longer  objects  of  human  punishment,  their  actions 
are  no  longer  of  human  cognizance,  or  subjects  of  temporal  judg- 
ment, which  death  in  all  cases,  and  necessarily,  disappoints  of  its 
victim, 

'•  Of  this  we  shall  only  lay  before  your  majesty  the  striking  in- 
stances which  follow,  and  apply  closely  to  the  subject  on  which 
we  address  your  majesty. 

"  We  have  the  authority  of  Sir  Matthew  Hale  for  stating,  that 
at  all  times,  in  all  cases  of  felony  or  treason,  except  the  single 
case  of  death  received  in  open  war  against  the  king,  and,  as  that 
exception  will  be  found  to  have  been  soon  overruled,  it  may  now, 
upon  the  same  authority,  be  stated,  that  from  the  beginning  of  the 
reign  of  Edward  III,,  in  all  cases  of  felony  or  treason,  without 
any  exception,  if  the  party  die  before  he  be  attainted,  though  he  were 
killed  in  the  pursuit  (which  implies  his  resistance),  or  even  in 
open  war  against  the  king  (a  still  stronger  case),  and  (still  more) 
even  though  he  had  been  tried  and  convicted,  yet,  //  he  died  after 
conviction,  and  before  judgment,  'there  ensued,'  to  use  Sir  Mat- 
thew Hale"s  words,  '  neither  attainder.'  that  is,  judgment,  '  nor 
forfeiture  of  lands,' 

"And  from  the  eighth  year  of  King  Edward  III,  the  judges 
would  not  allow  an  averment  that  a  party  died  in  open  icar  against 
the  king,  either  in  rebellion  or  adhering  to  the  king's  enemies, 
without  a  record  of  his  conviction. 

"  And-now,  by  the  statute  of  the  twenty-fifth  year  of  the  reign 
of  King  Edward  III,,  deproditiontbus^  which  requires  an  attainder 
by  conviction,  and  attainder  per  gents  de  lew  condition,  attainder 
after  death  for  adhering  to  the  king's  enemies  is  ousted. 

"  And  nine  years  afterward,  because  subtlety  or  chicanery 
might  say  that  an  inquest  before  the   escheator  might  satisfy 


APPENDIX.  283 

those  words,  the  statute  of  the  thirty-fourth  year  of  the  reign  of 
the  same  King  Edward,  chap,  12,  has  in  express  terms,  for  the 
future,  ousted  such  attainders  or  convictions  after  death  of  the  par- 
ties. 

"  And  this  venerable  judge,  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  a  text-writer  of 
the  highest  authorit}'  on  the  criminal  law.  emphatically  lays  down, 
what  is  indeed  engraven  on  every  breast  endued  with  a  sense,  or 
animated  with  a  love  of  justice,  that 

"  '  No  man  ought  to  be  attainted  of  treason  without  being  called 
to  make  his  defence  and  put  to  answer,  which  is  called  arrenatio,  or 
ad  rationem  positusJ' 

"  And.  among  several  remarkable  precedents  of  justice  in  sup- 
port of  that  just  and  protecting  maxim,  Sir  jNI.  Hale  states  the 
case  of  Roger  Mortimer.  Earl  of  March,  condemned  for  treason, 
for  the  death  of  King  Edward  the  Second.  His  heir,  Roger  Mor- 
timer, in  the  reign  of  King  Edward  the  Third,  brought  a  petition 
of  error  upon  that  judgment,  and  the  record  of  his  attainder  was 
removed  into  parliament,  and  there  entered  of  record,  and  errors 
were  assigned  that  lie  had  not  been  arraigned  and  called  upon  to  an- 
swer ;  and,  by  the  judgment  of  the  king,  lords,  and  commons,  the 
judgment  appealed  from  was  reversed  and  annulled,  and  the  peti- 
tioner was  restored  to  the  title  of  Earl  of  JMarch,  and  the  lands, 
&c.  of  his  grandfather. 

"  It  cannot  be  pretended,  and  therefore  it  is  not  alleged,  that 
the  late  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  was  killed  in  open  war  against 
your  majesty,  fighting  either  in  open  rebellion  or  for  the  enemies 
of  your  majesty  ;  the  only  case  in  which,  even  in  the  least  civil- 
ized and  most  irregular  times,  when  the  constitution  can  scarcely 
be  deemed  to  have  been  settled,  a  forfeiture  by  a  proceeding  after 
death  could  be  incurred, — and  to  effect  a  forfeiture,  even  in  those 
unruly  and  turbulent  times,  and  in  a  case  so  extraordinary,  when 
death  was  received  in  the  very  act  of  flagrant  and  raging  rebel- 
lion.— a  presentment  in  Eyre,  a  presentment  in  the  King's  Bench, 
or  an  inquisition  by  the  escheator  was  indispensable. 

'•  But  this  practice  has  been  shown  to  have  been  of  old  time 
discountenanced  and  reprobated  by  the  judges  of  the  land,  and 
condemned  and  prohibited  by  the  authority  of  parliament. 

'•  And  even  the  practice  of  accusing  and  attainting  in  cases  of 
treason  or  felony,  without  indictment  or  presentment,  where  the 
party  was  taken  living,  with  the  mainour  cum  manu  opere.  is,  says 
Sir  M.  Hale,  disused  and  ousted  by  the  statutes  of  the  fifth  year 
of  the  reiorn  of  Kino;  Edward  the  Third,  chap.  9.  and  the  25th 
year  of  the  reign  of  the  same  king.  chap.  4,  according  to  winch 
statutes,  •  none  shall  be  put  to  answer  without  indictment  or  pre- 
sentment of  good  and  lawful  men  of  the  neighbourhood.' 

"  Attainder,  on  which,  as  we  have  frequently  had  occasion  to 
show,  so  much  depends,  we  understand  to  be  the  immediate  and 


284  APPENDIX. 

inseparable  consequence  o^  sentence  of  death.  When  that  sentence 
is  pronounced,  the  criminal  is  called  attaint,  attinctux,  stained  or 
blackened.  '  This/  says  Mr.  Justice  Blackstone,  in  his  excellent 
Commentaries,  'is  after  judgment ;  for  there  is  great  difference 
between  a  man  convicted  and  attainted,  though  they  are  frequently, 
but  inaccurately,  confounded  together.  After  conviction  only,  a 
man  is  liable  to  none  of  these  disabilities '  (the  inseparable  con- 
sequences of  sentence  of  death)  ;  '  for  there  is  still'  (after  con- 
viction) '  in  contemplation  of  law,  a  possibility  of  his  innocence. 
Something  may  be  offered  at  any  time  before  judgment'  actually 
pronounced,  and  at  the  very  instant  that  it  is  about  to  be  pro- 
nounced ;  for  which  express  purpose  the  criminal  is  at  that  time 
asked  whether  he  has  any  thing  to  allege  why  judgment  should 
not  pass  against  him.  '  The  indictment  may  be  erroneous,  which 
will  render  his  guilt  uncertain,  and  thereupon  the  present  con- 
viction may  be  quashed  ,  he  may  obtain  a  pardon'  (which,  we  un- 
derstand, may  be  pleaded  after  conviction,  and  at  any  time  before 
judgment  is  actually  pronounced^,  'or  be  allowed  the  benefit  of 
clergy.  But  when  judgment  is  once  pronounced,  both  law  and 
fact  conspire  to  prove  him  completely  guilty,  and  there  is  not  the 
remotest  possibility  left  of  anything  to  be  said  in  his  favour.  Up- 
on judgment,  therefore,  of  death,  and  not  before,  (that  is,  when 
the  remotest  possibility  that  any  thing  can  be  said  in  his  fiivour 
is  exhausted, — merciful  law  !  and  not  more  merciful  than  wise  !) 
then  '  the  attainder  of  a  criminal  commences ;  or,  upon  such  cir- 
cumstances as  are  equivalent  to  a  judgment  of  death,  as  judg- 
ment of  outlawry  on  a  capital  crime  pronounced  for  absconding 
or  fleeing  from  justice,  which  tacitly  confesses  the  guilt.  And 
therefore,  either  upon  judgment  of  outlawry  or  of  death,  for  trea- 
son or  felony,  a  man  shall  be  said  to  be  attainted.  The  conse- 
quences of  attainder  arc  forfeiture  and  corruption  of  blood.' 

'•  Enough,  we  humbly  hope,  sire,  has  been  urged  to  satisfy  your 
royal  mind  that  forfeiture  of  lands  and  corruption  of  blood  are 
the  legal  fruits  and  consequences,  the  strict  technical  effects,  of 
the  attainder  of  an  existing  traitor  or  felon  who  has,  at  the  time 
of  the  attainder^  blood  to  be  corrupted  and  land  to  be  forfeited 
(all  alienations  of  his  land  between  the  period  of  his  crime  and 
that  of  his  attainder  being,  by  the  judgment  of  the  law.  avoid- 
ed). Forfeiture  and  corruption  of  blood  are,  indeed,  the  fruits 
of  crime,  but  fruits  which  the  nice  and  scrupulous  justice  of  the 
law  disdains  to  gather  until  it  has  given  to  the  criminal  every 
possible  opportunity  of  defending  himself,  and  is  enabled  to  say, 
even  the  most  remote  possibility  of  his  innocence  is  now  exclud- 
ed. May  such,  sire,  ever  be  the  just  description  and  character 
of  the  law  of  forfeiture  and  corruption  of  the  blood  of  an  inno- 
cent posterity,  while  it  is  deemed  expedient  to  permit  that  law  to 
endure ;  and  may  none  other  ever  be  executed  by  the  sovereign 


APPENDIX.  285 

of  a  free  people  !  Where  there  is  no  attainder  in  the  lifetime  of 
the  subject,  the  legal  root  from  which  alone  these  fruits  spring 
fails,  and  we  might  as  well  look  for  an  effect  of  which  the  sole 
cause  has  no  existence.  If  the  subject  die  unattainted,  who  shall 
take  upon  him  to  say  that  he  does  not  die  innocent  ]  Who  is 
authorized  to  assert  that,  had  he  lived,  he  ever  would  have  been 
attainted  '?  Who  shall  presume  to  allege  that  the  most  remote 
possibility  of  his  innocence  was  excluded  1  Who  will  undertake 
to  answer  for  the  issue  of  his  trial  had  he  lived  to  such  an  event  1 
And,  supposing  him  convicted,  who  will  prescribe  limits  to  your 
majesty-s  clemency,  or  dare  to  affirm  that  no  motive  to  mercy,  no 
service  he  could  have  rendered,  no  discovery  he  could  have  made, 
no  repentance  of  his  errors,  no  situation  into  which  his  misfor- 
tunes, his  sufferings,  or  his  offences  might  have  plunged  him, 
could  possibly  have  actuated  your  royal  breast  to  the  exercise  of 
that  godlike  attribute  at  any  moment  previous  to  the  time  of  his 
being  stained  by  final  sentence  and  the  dreadful  judgment  of  the 
law  ? 

"  If,  then,  sire,  the  subject  die  unattainted,  his  blood  flows  un- 
attainted to  his  unoffending  offspring,  and  his  property  descends, 
at  the  instant  of  his  death,  to  his  legal  representatives,  whose 
dominion  over  it  from  that  moment  becomes  absolute  :  whose  title 
is  guarded  and  secured  by  all  the  laws  of  property,  by  all  the  rules, 
and  maxims,  and  statutes  which  prescribe  and  regulate  its  des- 
cent and  distribution  on  the  death  of  the  person  last  seised  and 
possessed.  Their  title  is  without  defect  or  imperfection.  Their 
alienations,  whether  by  sale,  or  mortgage,  or  settlement,  would 
convey  a  pure  and  unadulterated  right.  In  this  state  of  things, 
to  overturn  the  general  law  of  the  land,  the  security  of  every 
mans  inheritance,  and,  by  an  arbitary  act  of  power  and  a  fictiti- 
ous post-mortem  attainder  (a  solecism  in  language  and  a  contra- 
diction in  terms),  divested  of  every  characteristic  of  a  real  one, 
to  sentence  innocence  and  infancy,  on  which  alone  this  shocking 
proceeding  can  operate,  to  degradation  and  dishonour ;  to  create 
in  those,  who  not  only  have  not  committed,  but  who  are  incap- 
able of  the  commission  of  crime,  the  incapacity  of  inheriting 
after  they  have  inherited  ;  to  break  and  intercept  the  descent  of 
that  which  lias  already  descended ;  and  to  inflict  on  the  unoffend- 
ing the  loss  of  property  which  has  in  the  due  course  and  opera- 
tion of  law  upon  that  property  come  to  them ; — can,  gracious  sire, 
such  an  instrument  of  injury  and  worker  of  wrong  expect  to  ob- 
tain the  sanction  and  authority  of  a  legislative  proceeding,  which 
would  foul  the  fountain  and  pollute  the  sanctuary  of  law,  and 
make  those  records,  which  ought  to  be  the  monuments  of  truth 
and  justice,  a  whimsical  compound  of  absurdity,  imposture,  pas- 
sion, and  tyranny  1 

"  Of  examples  in  good  or  regular  times  for  this  monstrous  pro- 


286  APPENDIX. 

ceeding  we  are,  with  one  exception  only,  fortunately  ignorant ; 
although,  since  the  happy  accession  of  your  majesty's  family,  its 
title  to  the  crown  of  these  realms  was  long  and  openly  disputed, 
and  twice  by  open  rebellion,  and  oftener  by  meditated  insurrec- 
tion and  conspiracies  to  levy  war,  attempted  to  be  subverted  ;  so 
that  occasions  for  such  examples,  and  the  weak  excuse  of  provo- 
cations to  such  acts  of  outrage  and  violence,  could  not  have  been 
wanting.  The  same  observation  applies  to  the  reign  of  King 
William  the  Third.  A  recollection  of  the  commencement  and 
events  of  his  reign,  and  of  the  conspiracies  which  were  formed 
for  the  destruction  of  his  person  and  government,  justifies  the 
conclusion. 

"  To  very  remote  times,  to  the  melancholy  and  disgraceful 
periods  of  our  history,  when  hostile  factions  alternately  gave  away 
and  resumed  the  royal  sceptre,  and  the  crown  was  supported,  not 
by  the  law,  but  by  the  sword,  we  shall  not  resort ;  nor  shall  we 
ransack  the  flagitious  registers  of  those  rapacious  counsels  which 
hunted  after  forfeitures  and  sought  a  source  of  revenue  in  the 
destruction  of  opulent  subjects.  These  the  judgment  of  a  more 
just  and  more  enlightened  posterity  has  doomed  to  their  merited 
fate.  But  the  precedent  which,  as  an  exception,  we  mentioned 
before,  is  furnished  by  the  case  of  the  attainder  of  the  regicides 
after  the  restoration  of  King  Charles  the  Second,  among  whom 
four  were  dead,  Cromwell,  Bradshaw,  Pryde,  and  Ireton, — a  pre- 
cedent which,  as  far  as  it  relates  to  the  dead,  has  never  since  been 
followed,  and  which,  in  all  human  probability,  there  never  will  in 
these  kingdoms  be  again  occasion  to  follow.  And  on  that  act  of 
attainder,  whether  the  measures  then  pursued  against  the  dead 
may  now  be  looked  back  upon  with  pride  or  shame,  it  may  be 
observed,  that  the  acts  of  treason  were  not  of  more  enormity  than 
notoriety.  The  destruction  of  the  person  of  the  king,  the  sub- 
version of  the  regal  authority,  the  usurpation  of  the  government, 
did  not  admit  of  any  sort  of  question.  That  was  no  case  of  con- 
spiring to  levy  war,  or  of  endeavouring  to  persuade  the  kings 
enemies  to  invade  the  realm.  •  There  the  treasonable  purposes 
were  perfectly  accomplished,  and  the  guilt  of  the  conspirators 
was  consummated  by  the  complete  attainment  of  their  treason- 
able objects.  To  the  conviction  of  mankind,  from  the  nature  of 
the  case,  the  most  remote  possibility  that  any  thing  could  be  said 
in  contradiction  to  the  facts  alleged  against  the  regicides  did 
not  remain ;  and  the  dead  could  not  possibly  have  been  tried, 
could  not  possibly  have  been  pardoned,  before  their  decease,  be- 
cause they  had  overturned  the  authority  under  which  they  were 
to  be  tried,  and  destroyed  the  source  from  which  grace  and  mercy 
flowed.  Their  wealth,  too,  in  so  singular  a  state  of  guilt,  was 
presumed  to  have  been  the  fruit  of  their  successful  treasons,  and 
it  was  alleged  at  the  time  that  the  fact  justified  the  presumption. 


4.PPEXDIX.  281 

We  do  not  make  these  remarks  for  the  purpose  of  exercising;  a 
judgment  which  we  are  not  called  upt^a  to  pronounce  on  any  part 
of  that  proceeding,  but  solely  to  point  out  the  little  reseml^Uince 
which  the  case  that  produced  it  has  to  that  brought  by  this  bill 
under  your  majesty's  consideration. 

"  After  what  has  been  already  alleged,  it  can  scarcely  be  neces- 
sary to  add,  but  the  truth  is,  that  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  never, 
during  any  period  of  his  life,  had  judgment  of  high  treason  pro- 
nounced against  him  ;  never  was  convicted  of  high  treason ; 
never  was  tried  for,  or  arraigned  of,  high  treason  ;  nor  had  any 
indictment  or  presentment  for  high  treason  ever  been  found  or 
preferred  against  him  by  good  and  lawful  men  of  his  neighbour- 
hood. 

"  Your  petitioners,  sire,  have  always  apprehended  that  tho 
guilt  of  man  cannot  be  presumed  or  acted  upon  unless  it  has  been 
established  in  a  due  and  regular  course  of  law  ;  but  in  this  case, 
the  guilt  of  the  dead  ancestor  is  assumed,  for  the  unjust  and 
odious  purpose  of  divesting  his  innocent  posterity  of  their  just 
and  lawful  rights,  and  despoiling  them  of  their  absolute  and  in- 
disputable property.  What  are  the  limits  to  the  exercise  of  such 
a  power  ]  For  what  injustice,  what  violence,  what  oppression, 
what  rapacity  may  not  such  a  bill  be  a  precedent  1  What  rights 
of  property  does  it  leave  secure  1  Does  not  the  same  general  and 
equal  law  which  assures  the  inheritance  and  possessions  of  all 
the  rest  of  your  majesty's  subjects  secure  the  inheritance  and 
possessions  of  these  unfortunate  and  oppressed  children  1  Is  their 
title  less  valid  than  the  title  of  any  other  man  ?  or  worse  secured 
than  if  they  had  acquired  it  by  purchase,  settlement,  or  deed  of 
gift  ?  Upon  the  principle  of  this  bill,  may  not  any  man,  or  num- 
ber of  men,  equally  void  of  offence  as  these  helpless  infants,  be 
stripped  of  their  property,  and  reduced  to  indigence  and  misery 
by  an  arbitary,  ex  parte,  extra-judicial,  posthumous,  legislative 
enactment  of  the  treason  of  some  departed  ancestor  ?  What  new 
and  unheard-of  power  is  this  which  punishes  living  persons  of 
acknowledged  innocence,  by  trying  and  condemning  the  dead  1 
And  what  ideas  of  justice  must  those  entertain  who  thus  attempt 
to  violate  the  sacred  rights  of  property,  and  perpetrate  an  act  of 
wrong  and  violence  by  exhibiting  a  mock  trial  of  the  dead,  where, 
if  there  may  be  accusation,  there  can  be  no  defence  ;  and  if  there 
may  be  crime,  there  can  be  no  criminal. 

'■  If  for  any  reason  beyond  our  capacity  to  perceive,  it  were 
thought  necessary,  by  a  special  legislative  act  made  on  the  spur 
of  the  occasion  and  in  the  rage  of  the  moment,  to  find  the  fact 
and  make  the  law  for  dooming  the  untried  dead  to  a  judgment  of 
high  treason,  we  cannot  but  hope  that  your  majesty's  love  of  jus- 
tice will  countenance  us  in  thinking  that  even  then  the  bill  might 
have  stopped  there,  without  superadding  the  confiscation  and  tor- 


288  APPENDIX. 

feiture  of  that  property  which  now  by  law  belongs  to  his  innocent 
children.  Treason  tliey  cannot  have  committed,  and  they  are  not 
traitors  by  birth  or  inheritance  :  yet  this  bill  makes  them  so,  and, 
at  the  same  time  that  it  cruelly  renders  them,  innocent  and  help- 
less as  they  are,  incapable  of  inheriting  any  thing  else,  it  pre- 
sents them  with  treason  for  their  inheritance,  leaves  them  desti- 
tute of  the  means  of  education  and  sustenance,  and  turns  them 
into  the  world  naked  and  desolate,  in  calamity,  misery,  and 
despair,  as  if  it  were  necessary  by  this  bill  to  imbitter  their  mis- 
fortunes and  aggravate  their  sufferings,  and  to  teach  them  their 
duties  to  society  by  robbing  them  of  their  rights  in  it. 

"  These  superadded  provisions  in  the  case  of  perfect  innocence 
cannot  but  appear  the  more  extraordinary  proofs  of  precipitation 
and  passion,  that  your  majesty's  royal  clemency  has  been  recently 
extended  (highly  to  the  satisfaction  of  your  petitioners,  and,  we 
believe,  to  that  of  the  rest  of  .your  majesty's  subjects)  to  several 
persons,  one  or  more  convicted  of,  and  the  rest  charged  with,  high 
treason  ;  all  of  whom  have,  consequently,  preserved  their  pro- 
perty, while  the  innocent  children  of  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald, 
those  who  cannot  have  been  guilty  of  any  offencCj  are,  by  the 
provisions  of  this  bill,  made  to  forfeit  theirs.  Thus,  it  appears, 
that  while  the  government  of  Ireland  is  remitting  the  punish- 
ments which  in  the  course  of  law  fail  upon  the  guilty,  it  is  ex- 
tending and  aggravating  beyond  the  laAV  those  consequences  of 
guilt  which  fail  only  upon  the  innocent.  What  would  be  the 
sense  and  feeling  of  mankind,  if,  in  the  case  of  a  tried,  convicted 
traitor,  his  property  were  preserved  for  him  during  his  life,  but 
that  effect  of  his  attainder  were  enforced  which  furieits  his  prop- 
erty after  his  death,  when  it  would  devolve  upon  his  innocent 
children  ^  that  is,  that  the  guilty  father  should  be  pardoned,  but 
the  innocent  children  punished  !  And  what  less  can  be  said 
of  this  bill,  when  the  case  of  the  innocent  children  of  Lord  Ed- 
ward Fitzgerald  is  contrasted  with  that  of  those  who,  at  the  very 
time  of  its  passing,  have  been  objects  of  royal  mercy  in  Ireland  ? 

''  The  provisions  of  this  bill  are  also  rendered  more  striking, 
by  considering  that  several  modern  statutes  which  constitute  the 
offence  of  treason  provide  that  it  shall  work  no  forfeiture  of  lands 
save  only  for  the  life  of  the  offender ;  and  all  such  modern  sta- 
tutes preserve  to  the  wife  of  the  offender  her  dower.  And  in  the 
case  of  high  treason  itself,  the  hereditary  punishment  of  a  traitor 
actually  attainted  has,  during  nearly  the  whole  of  this  century, 
stood  m  the  statute-book  tacitly  condemned  ;  as  a  period  has  been 
fixed  for  its  cessation,  which,  in  the  course  of  nature,  must  in  all 
probability  soon  arrive. 

"  We  trust,  may  it  please  your  majesty,  that  we  have  urged 
reasons  of  sufficient  weight  against  the  general  principles  of  this 
bill  of  injustice  and  violence  to  induce  your  majesty,  in  your 


APPENDIX.  289 

kTiOwn  love  of  justice  and  uniform  regard  for  the  rights  of  prop- 
erty, to  protect  these  defenceless  orphans  in  the  enjoyment  of 
theirs,  and  to  withhold  your  royal  assent  from  this  bill.  But, 
according  to  the  best  accounts  which  we  have  been  able  to  obtain 
of  it,  it  will  in  the  detail  of  its  provisions  be  found  consistent 
with  the  violent  and  oppressive  character  of  its  general  prin- 
ciples. 

*'  In  such  a  bill,  instead  of  loose,  and  general,  and  accumulating 
terms, — instead  of  recitals  of  the  crimes,  and  convictions,  and 
attainders  of  others, — there  might  have  been  expected  some  legal 
precision  and  certainty  in  the  description  of  the  treason  charged 
upon  the  deceased,  and  at  least  some  clear  and  distinct  specifi- 
cation of  the  overt  acts  by  which  it  was  manifested  and  to  be 
proved. 

'•  The  bill  alleges,  that  since  the  first  of  November,  1797,  the 
deceased  did  commit  '  several  acts  of  high  treason,  by  conspiring 
to  raise  and  stir  up  insurrection  and  rebellion,  and  by  endeavour- 
ing to  persuade  the  enemies  of  our  lord  the  king  to  invade  his 
kingdom  of  Ireland ;  and  did,  in  pursuance  of  the  said  treason, 
commit  several  overt  acts  with  intent  to  depose  and  dethrone  the 
king,  and  subvert  and  overturn  the  government  of  his  kingdom 
of  Ireland.' 

"  Such  legal  advice  as  we  have  been  able  to  procure  has  in- 
structed us  that  this  contains  no  legal  description  of  the  crime  of 
high  treason.  To  compass  or  imagine  the  death  of  our  lord  the 
king  is  high  treason  •  to  levy  war  against  our  lord  the  king  is 
high  treason ;  to  adhere  to  the  enemies  of  our  lord  the  king  is 
high  treason.  But  '  conspiring  to  raise  and  stir  up  insurrection 
and  rebellion,'  we  are  informed,  is  not  a  description  of  high  trea- 
son ;  though  it  may,  Ivhen  properly  laid,  be  charged  as  an  overt 
act  of  compassing  or  imagining  the  kings  death.  And  •  endea- 
vouring to  persuade  the  enemies  of  our  lord  the  king  to  invade 
the  kingdom,'  we  are  also  informed,  is  not  a  description  of  high 
treason ;  though  persuading  the  enemies  of  our  lord  the  king  to 
invade  the  kingdom  may,  when  properly  laid,  be  charged  as  an 
overt  act  of  adhering  to  the  kino-'s  enemies. 

"  But  what  are  the  overt  acts  of  what  the  bill  describes  as  high 
treason  1  The  deceased  '  did,  in  pursuance  of  the  said  treason, 
commit  several  overt  acts  with  intent  to  depose,'  &c.  But  what 
these  several  overt  acts  were,  or  what  any  one  of  them  was,  or 
where  or  when  committed,  this  bill  of  attainder  of  treason  nowhere 
informs  us ;  so  that  the  infant  children  of  the  deceased  were  ex- 
pected to  defend  their  parent  against  high  treason  not  described 
by  the  charge,  and  of  which  no  overt  act  was  disclosed  by  the 
charge  ;  although  your  petitioners  are  informed,  that  to  sustain 
a  charge  of  high  treason,  the  treason  itself  must  be  first  correctly 
charged  ;  and  next,  some  act,  with  the  place,  time,  and  other  neces- 


290  APPENDIX. 

sary  ingredients  thereof,  by  which  such  treason  is  demonstrated  or 
made  overt. 

'•  If  it  be  true,  as  we  have  been  informed,  that  no  access  was 
permitted  to  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  after  he  was  taken  into  cus- 
tody, no  measures  could  have  been  concerted  in  his  lifetime  for 
his  defence  ;  still,  after  his  death,  his  infant  children  were,  it 
seems,  expected  to  undertake  that  defence^  and  had  their  all  at 
stake  on  it.  And  yet  they  were  not  informed  by  the  charge  against 
hitn  what  were  the  overt  acts  of  treason  against  which  they  were 
to  defend  him. 

'•  Neither  does  the  bill  state  that  any  of  the  facts,  alleged  as 
they  are  against  the  deceased,  have  been  proved  at  all :  still  less 
which  of  them,  or  how^  or  by  what  witnesses  or  evidence,  so  as  to 
give  your  majesty  any  information  to  satisfy  your  majesty's  con- 
science or  judgment;  although  your  majesty  is  called  upon  to  be 
a  party  to  this  bill,  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  the  dead,  and  to  con- 
fiscate the  property  of  the  living  innocent ! 

"  And  whatever  confidence  in  the  case  of  public  acts,  or  in  or- 
dinary cases  of  private  acts,  your  majesty  may  constitutionally  be 
expected  to  place  in  the  proceedings  of  parliament,  yet,  Avhen 
parliament  assumes  these  extraordinary  functions  of  judicial  ma- 
gistracy ;  institute  prosecutions  of  a  sort  quite  unknown  to  the 
law,  and  conduct  them  on  principles  utterly  repugnant  to  it;  dis- 
pose of  private  rights  legally  vested  in  innocent  and  unoffending 
pe^'sons,  whose  tender  age  and  incapacity  make  them  peculiar  ob- 
jects of  the  protection  of  the  law ;  enact  a  crime  ex  post  facfo, 
after  the  death  of  the  alleged  criminal,  and  a  confiscation  of  an 
inheritance  after  it  is  vested  : — we  trust  that  it  will  not  be  thought 
either  unreasonable  in  itself,  or  any  departure  from  your  majesty's 
general  confidence  in  parlu\ment,  that  a  bill  of  so  singular  a  spe- 
cies, and  so  terrible  an  aspect,  should  not,  merely  because  it  has 
passed  the  other  two  branches  of  the  legislature,  and  without  any 
examination  of  its  principles,  allegations,  or  provision,  receive 
your  majesty's  assent,  and  obtain  the  force  of  law. 

"  Moreover,  sire,  this  bill  declares  forfeited  all  the  real  estate 
which  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  had  on  the  1st  of  November,  1797, 
and  makes  void  all  transfers  of  it  subsequent  to  that  time,  and 
yet  makes  no  provision  out  of  it  for  the  payment  of  any  of  his 
debts ;  though  from  that  time  to  the  time  of  his  expiration, 
several  months  afterward,  he  had  the  uncontrolled  dominion  over 
his  property,  and  may  have  mortgaged  or  charged  it  for  money 
lent,  or  other  valuable  consideration  ;  or,  without  specifically  en- 
cambering  it,  may  have  contracted  specialty  debts  upon  the  faith 
and  credit  of  his  possession  of  it  with  a  known  and  just  title  to 
ir.  Was  it  criminal  in  his  creditors  to  transact  v»iih  him  the 
ordinary  business  of  life  ]  or  what  care  or  caution  have  they 
omitted  1     \Vhat  prudence  or  foresight  could  reveal  to  them,  that 


APPENDIX.  291 

after  the  death  of  their  unconvicted  debtor  a  special  act  of  par- 
liament should,  by  a  post  mortem  attainder  of  treason,  confiscate 
his  property  from  a  date  purely  arbitrary  and  capricious:  which 
property  was  at  that  date  and  at  the  time  of  his  death  more  than 
sufhcient  to  enable  the  lawful  owner  of  it  honourably  and  consci- 
entiously  to  fulfil  all  the  pecuniary  obligations  for  which  it  was 
responsible,  or  which  he  had  contracted. 

"  The  bill  also  declares  all  his  personal  estate  forfeited,  and 
carries  that  forfeiture  back  to  the  1st  March,  1798,  although  by 
his  death,  unconvicted  of  any  crime,  independent  of  the  legal 
claims  of  his  widow  and  next  of  kin,  all  his  creditors  at  the  time 
of  his  death  have  a  legal  claim  on  his  personal  estate  for  the  pay- 
ment of  their  debts.  Yet  this  bill  has  no  respect  to  such  their  chiim ; 
nor,  which  is  still  more  extraordinary,  does  it  even  make  provision 
for  the  payment  of  his  funeral  expenses  out  of  his  personal  estate  ; 
so  that  those  who  contracted  for  his  funeral  expenses,  or  furnished 
the  means  of  his  Christian  burial,  are  to  be  added  to  the  number 
of  persons  punished  by  this  bill,  for  the  performance  of  an  act  of 
decorum  and  piety, — the  decent  interment  of  his  remains.  It 
is  not  improper  to  be  suggested,  that  betweeq  the  1st  of  March, 
1798,  and  the  time  of  his  death,  his  personal  estate,  or  some  of  it, 
may  have  been  sold  and  transferred,  and  the  produce  appropriated 
to  the  fulfilment  of  his  obligations,  or  expended  in  the  necessary 
support  of  himself,  his  wife,  and  children.  If,  for  instance,  he 
had  any  property  in  the  public  funds,  it  may  have  been  sold  at  the 
Stock  Exchange,  and  transferred  at  the  Bank,  either  by  himself 
or  by  the  authority  of  a  letter  of  attorney,  under  the  existing 
laws  of  this  country.  Yet  the  bill  attempts  at  least  to  reach  all 
the  personal  estate  of  which,  on  the  1st  of  March,  1798,  he  was 
possessed,  though  he  died  unconvicted,  and  though  by  the  law  of 
the  land  the  forfeiture  of  personal  estate  on  conviction  for  treason 
does  not  relate  back  to  any  time  previous  to  conviction.  '  The  for- 
feiture of  goods  and  chattels,'  says  Sir  William  Blackstone,  '  has 
no  relation  backwards ;  so  that  those  only  which  a  man  has  at  the 
time  of  conviction  shall  be  forfeited.  Therefore,  a  traitor  or  felon 
may  bona  fide  sell  any  of  his  chattels,  real  or  personal,  for  the 
Bustenance  of  himself  and  family,  between  the  fact  and  conviction  : 
for  personal  property  is  of  so  fluctuating  a  nature,  that  it  passes 
through  many  hands  in  a  short  time,  and  no  buyer  could  be  safe 
if  he  were  liable  to  return  the  goods  which  he  had  fairly  bought, 
pro\ided  any  of  the  prior  venders  had  committed  treason  or 
felony,'  So  that  this  bill  not  only  enacts  a  conviction,  of  the  dead, 
but  gives  to  that  conviction  an  efi:ect  which  it  would  not  have  had 
by  law  had  it  actually  taken  place  in  his  lifetime.  The  bill  fixes 
an  arbitrary  date,  for  which  no  reason  is  assigned,  and  which  has 
no  reference  even  to  its  own  fictions  for  the  forfeiture  of  the  per- 
sonal estate  ;  refuses  to  pay  for  the  burial  of  the  dead  ;  takes  from 


292  '  APPENDIX. 

vendees  and  creditors  their  legal  property :  makes  the  deceased, 
against  his  will,  a  fraudulent  debtor  in  his  grave,  a  posthumous 
insolvent,  though  he  died  the  lawful  owner  of  a  sufficiency  of 
assets  real  and  personal ;  defrauds  his  creditors  of  the  fund  out  of 
which  they  are  entitled  to  l)e  paid,  and  his  widow  and  next  of  kin 
of  the  surplus  to  which  they  are  by  law  entitled. 

"  All  which  matters  are  humbly  submitted  to  your  majesty. 
"  And  may  it  please  your  majesty  to  prove,  as  is  natural  to  the 
known  benevolence  of  your  royal  mind,  the  protector  of  the 
fatherless  children  and  widow  thus  desolate  and  oppressed  ! — that 
this  unexampled,  violent,  vindictive,  and  cruel  bill  may  not  be 
further  proceeded  in  ;  or,  that  your  majesty  would  be  pleased  to 
withhold  your  royal  assent  from  the  same. 

"  And  your  petitioners,  as  in  duty  bound,  will  ever  pray,  &c. 
(Signed)  "  Richmond. 

"  W.  Ogilvie. 

"■  Henry  Fitzgerald. 

"  Charles  James   Fox. 

''■  Henry  Edward  Fox. 

"Holland." 

from  the  dutchess  dowager  of  leixster  to  lord  henry 

fitzgerald. 

<' October,  1798. 

"■  My  dearest  Henry, 
"  I  send  you  a  copy  of  the  sketch  Lord  Holland  sent  me,  by 
Charles  Fox's  desire,  of  a  petition  to  the  king,  desiring  him  to 
order  the  former  petition,  which  arrived  too  late,  to  be  laid  before 
him  ;  and  this,  it  is  proposed,  should  go  along  with  my  letter,  of 
which  here  is  also  a  copy.  We  are  now  in  doubt  who  should 
present  it ;  my  brother  ofiers,  if  I  wish  it,  to  ask  an  audience  of 
the  king  in  his  closet,  and  to  add  his  representations  of  the  busi- 
ness, which  may  not  have  reached  the  king's  ear.  I  have  written 
to  Lord  Holland  to  consult  Charles  about  it,  and  also  to  know  from 
him  if  he  thinks  the  Duke  of  York  would  do  it,  and,  if  he  would, 
whether  that  is  not  the  best.  1  mean  to  write  both  to  the  prince 
and  duke  for  their  approbation  of  it :  at  any  rate,  to  the  first,  as 
a  compliment  due  to  his  good-nature  ;  to  the  latter,  in  hopes  that, 
whether  he  presents  it  or  not,  he  may  back  it,  as  he  has  great 
weight,  and  has  always  shown  much  feeling.  Did  you  happen 
to  know  that  he  had  actually  obtained  the  delay  of  the  trial  1  so 
much  dreaded,  although  he  had  made  me  no  promise,  and  only 
made  use  of  terms  of  compassion  when  he  listened  to  me.  with- 
out engaging  to  do  any  thing  ?  God  bless  you,  dear  angel,  and 
all  at  lioyle  Farm. 

"  Ever  your  affectionate  mother,  "  £.  L." 


APPENDIX.  293 

"  TO    THE    king's    MOST    EXCELLENT    MAJESTY." 

"  May  it  please  your  majesty, 

"  The  humble  petition  of  Emily,  Dutchess  Dowager  of 
Leinster,  wife  of  William  Ogilvie,  Esq..  and  mother  of 
the  right  honourable  Edward  Fitzgerald,  commonly 
called  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  ; 

"  SHOW^ETH, 

"That  an  humble  petition  of  the  right  honourable  Henry 
Fitzgerald, 

'■  To  your  majesty,  against  a  bill  passed  by  the  parliament  of 
Ireland,  and  transmitted  for  your  majesty's  royal  assent,  for, 
among  other  purposes,  the  attainder  of  the  said  Edward  Fitzger- 
ald, Esq.,  was,  on  Friday,  the  28th  of  September  last,  delivered 
into  the  office  of  his  grace,  the  Duke  of  Portland,  one  of  your 
majesty's  principal  secretaries  of  state,  in  order  to  its  being  laid 
before  your  majesty,  previous  to  the  passing  of  the  said  bill. 
That  your  petitioner  has  been  informed,  that  on  the  Wednesday, 
the  3d  day  of  this  month,  it  was  intimated  to  one  of  the  said 
petitioners,  by  letter  from  the  Duke  of  Portland,  that  the  said 
petition  had  not  reached  Weymouth  till  Saturday  morning,  the 
29th  of  September  last,  and  that  the  commission  empowering  the 
lord  lieutenant  to  give  the  royal  assent  to  that  and  other  bills 
had  passed  the  great  seal,  and  had  been  despatched  the  preceding 
evening.  That  your  petitioner,  imagining  from  the  circumstance 
that  the  said  petition  may  not  have  been  submitted  to  your  ma- 
jesty's consideration,  beseeches  your  majesty,  in  the  humble  hope 
that  the  reasons  which  were  offered  to  your  majesty  why  the 
said  bill  should  not  pass  into  a  law  may  be  deemed  by  your  ma- 
jesty of  sufficient  w^eight  to  induce  your  majesty,  as  an  act  of 
personal  grace  and  favour  from  your  majesty  to  the  innocent  and 
infant  children  of  the  late  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  by  your  ma- 
jesty's royal  grant  to  restore  to  them  that  property  of  which 
they  were  possessed  till  the  said  bill  was  passed,  and  of  which 
the  said  bill  has  divested  them.  And  which  your  majesty's  peti- 
tioner, as  in  duty  bound,  will  ever  pray,  &c.  &;c.  &." 

The  following  are  the  affecting  appeals  addressed  by  her  grace 
to  the  three  royal  personages  mentioned  in  her  letter  : — 

to  his  majesty  george  the  third,  from  the  dutchess 
dowager  of  leinster.* 

"  Sir, 
"  Your  majesty,  who  has  so  often  honoured  me  with  condescend- 

*  This  letter  was  presented  to  his  majesty,  in  the  closet,  by  the  Duke  of  Rich- 
mond, on  the  24th  of  October,  1798. 


294  APPEXDIX. 

ing  goodness  in  the  days  of  my  prosperity,  will,  I  am  sure,  allow 
me  to  apply  to  you  in  those  of  my  adversity.  Family  affection 
has  ever  been  a  marked  feature  in  your  majesty's  character, 
and  your  subjects  have  contemplated  it  with  pleasure,  as  flowing 
from  that  benevolence  of  heart,  to  which,  in  their  distresses,  they 
might  safely  appeal  without  the  fear  of  being  deemed  presump- 
tuous. In  this  persuasion,  sir,  I  flatter  myself  you  will  look  with 
pity  on  an  afflicted  parent,  in  the  dechne  of  life,  bereft  of  a 
favourite  child,  and  sympathize  in  her  sorrows.  To  the  will  of 
Heaven  my  broken  heart  submits  with  resignation  ;  and.  trans- 
ferring to  the  children  of  my  beloved  son  that  anxious  tenderness 
which  filled  my  bosom  so  many  years  for  his  happiness  and  wel- 
fare, I  fondly  hoped  in  this  occupation  to  find  some  relief  for  the 
ang-uish  of  my  heart.  But,  sir,  what  must  my  wretchedness  be, 
when  I  find  myself  robbed  of  this  comfort  by  a  fatal  and  unex- 
pected blow,  depriving  these  innocent  babes  of  the  little  patri- 
mony which;  I  am  informed,  was  actually  theirs  oh  the  death  of 
their  father,  unconvicted  of  any  crime,  and  which  a  most  extra- 
ordinary exertion  of  the  power  of  parliament  has  now  taken  from 
them. 

'•  1  did  not  join,  sir,  in  a  petition  which  their  guardians  and 
some  of  their  family  presented  to  your  majesty,  beseeching  you 
not  to  give  your  assent  to  this  bill,  because  that  petition  went 
into  legal  discussions,  which  it  did  not  becc^me  me  to  enter  into ; 
nor  do  1  now  presume  to  say  any  thing  upon  the  reasons  of  policy 
which  only  could  have  induced  your  majesty  to  suffer  it  to  pass 
into  a  law.  No,  sir,  my  hope  and  confidence  is  placed  in  the  ex- 
cellence of  your  heart.  1  apply  to  that  benevolence  of  which 
your  majesty  has  the  uncontrolled  exercise,  and  of  which  inno- 
cent children  are  sure,  to  find  a  friend  in  your  majesty's  breast. 
Your  majesty's  parliament  of  Ireland,  certainly  misled  in  some 
circumstances  which  would  have  come  out  very  differently  on  a 
fair  trial,  has  thought  proper  to  exert  the  utmost  stretch  of  its 
power  ;  and,  however  hardly  used  I  must  ever  think  my  son  and 
his  children  have  been, — his  memory  blasted,  unheard,  untried, 
and  unconvicted, — and,  in  their  being  selected  to  forfeit  their  in- 
heritance for  an  offence  never  proved  by  any  law,  or  in  any  court 
of  justice,  1  must  submit  to  what  is  decided.  But  may  1  not  hope, 
sir.  when,  whether  ill  or  well  founded,  pubhc  vengeance  has  been 
satisfied  by  th'e  forfeiture  declared  by  this  act,  my  ever  dear  son's 
life  lost,  and  complicated  misery  fallen  on  his  unhappy  family, 
that  your  majesty's  natural  feelings  of  compassion  fur  the  dis- 
tressed may  be  allowed  to  operate,  and  your  goodness  to  flow  in 
favour  of  these  helpless  innocents  ? 

'■  Your  majesty's  reign  has  been  marked  with  many  restitu- 
tions of  property,  forfeited  in  the  ordinary  course  of  law  by  of- 
fenders regularly  convicted  of  having  actually  taken  up  arms  to 


APPENDIX.  ■  295 

deprive  your  majesty  and  your  family  of  the  crown  ;  and  the 
blessings  of  thousands,  with  the  approbation  of  all  mankind,  hare 
followed  these  bountiful  acts.  Even  at  this  moment  [  am  inform- 
ed the  property,  with  the  life,  of  some  convicted  of  what  my  son 
can  only  be  suspected  of. — since  he  was  never  tried, — has  been 
preserved  by  your  majesty's  clemency.  How,  then,  can  I  doubt 
but  that  it  will  be  extended  to  these  innocent  children,  whose 
property  is  now  in  your  majesty's  sole  disposal.  Oh,  sir,  I  never 
can  forget  the  humanity  and  kindness  of  your  two  sons,  their 
royal  highnesses  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the  Duke  of  York  : 
with  what  goodness  they  attended  to  my  prayer,  that  they  would 
intercede  with  your  majesty  for  that  delay  in  the  trial  of  my  son 
which  would  give  time  for  heat  and  prejudice  to  subside,  and  en- 
sure real  justice.  Tears  dropped  from  their  eyes  while  they 
listened  to  my  complaint ;  they  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  repeat- 
ing to  me  the  assurance  of  your  majesty's  commiseration  in  my 
misfortunes,  and  in  soothing  my  grief  with  recalling  many  little 
circumstances  of  your  majesty's  former  goodness  to  me.  The 
same  benevolence  still  exists,  and  I  trust  will  restore  to  my  grand- 
children their  lost  property,  a  gift  for  which  your  majesty  will 
ever  have  my  most  fervent  prayers  for  your  happiness ;  which 
will  relieve  my  poor  little  ones  from  want  and,  beggary,  and  en- 
able my  son's  executors  honourably  to  pay  his  debts  :  but  which 
can  in  no  respect  be  more  gratifying  to  me,  than  in  the  proof  it 
will  afford  that  your  majesty  has  not  entirely  withdrawn  your 
protection  from  a  family  long  and  devotedly  attached  to  your  per- 
son -and  government. 

'•  But  if,  contrary  to  these,  I  trust,  neither  unnatural  or  unrea- 
sonable hopes,  reasons  I  cannot  presume  to  judge  of  should  still 
restrain  the  first  emotion  which  I  am  sure  3^our  majesty's  heart 
will  feel  for  unoffending  children,  let  me  beseech  your  majesty  not 
to  suffer  their  property  to  be  sold  or  given  away  to  others ;  from 
whence,  however  connected  with  that  of  the  family,  it  could  never 
be  recovered.  Preserve  it,  sir,  unalienated  in  your  own  hands, 
and  if  their  innocence  be  not  a  sufficient  claim  for  restitution  at 
this  moment,  at  least,  sir,  reserve  to  yourself  the  godlike  power 
of  restoring  them  to  their  birthright,  if  by  their  duty  and  loyalty 
to  your  majesty,  their  respect  for  the  constitution,  and  obedience 
to  the  laws,  they  should  hereafter  show  themselves  deserving  of 
such  a  mark  of  your  majesty's  favour;  and  your  majesty  may 
be  assured,  as  long  as  I  live,  I  shall  think  it  ray  duty  to  see  them 
educated  in  these  principles." 


296  APPENDIX. 

TO  HIS    ROYAL    HIGHNESS    FREDERIC,    DUKE  OF    YORK,    FROM  THE 
DUTCHESS    DOWAGER    OF    LEINSTER. 

"  Itchenor,  Oct.  20th,  1798. 

"  Sir, 

"  The  sensibility  and  sympathy  with  my  affliction  that  your 
royal  highness  showed,  when  1  presumed  to  request  your  good  of- 
fices to  obtain  such  a  delay  in  my  son's  trial,  as  should  have  given 
time  to  passion  and  prejudice  to  subside,  have  made  the  deepest 
impression  on  my  heart,  and  induces  me  once  more  to  apply  to 
your  royal  highness  as  the  friend  of  wretchedness  and  distress. 

'- 1  have  ever  venerated  that  humanity  and  benevolence  that 
shine  so  conspicuous  in  your  royal  fiither"s  chai'acter  ;  and  to 
these  qualities  alone  I  wish  to  address  an  application  in  favour  of 
the  innocent  children  of  my  beloved  and  unfortunate  son.  I  have 
the  honour  of  enclosing  a  copy  of  a  letter  to  his  majesty  for  your 
royal  highess's  perusal ;  and  if  your  royal  highness  approve  of 
the  contents,  I  should  humbly  request  your  royal  highness  to  have 
the  condescending  goodness  to  deliver  it  to  the  king. 

'•  The  situation  of  these  helpless  children  will  speak  forcibly  to 
your  royal  highness's  feelings.  They  are  the  children  of  a  soldier 
and  a  brave  one,  who  has  bled  for  his  king  and  his  country. 

"  If  I  durst  presume  to  oiFer  any  vindication  of  my  dear  unfor- 
tunate son's  conduct,  it  should  be  an  appeal  to  your  royal  high- 
ness if  any  officer  was  more  prodigal  of  his  blood,  more  devoted 
to  his  majesty,  and  more  zealous  in  his  duty,  than  my  brave  son, 
while  he  had  the  honour  of  serving  his  majesty,  and  until  his 
majesty  was  unfortunately  advised  to  remove  him  from  that  ser- 
vice. Need  I  add  sir,  that  a  sentence  of  death  would  have  been  an 
act  of  mercy  to  a  man  of  his  spirit "?  But  for  that  fatal  measure 
my  valuable  son  might  either  be  now  a  living  ornament  to  his 
profession,  and  I  a  happy  mother,  or  I  should  have  had  the  con- 
solation of  his  having  fallen  gloriously  fighting  for  his  king  and 
his  country.  Alas,  how  much  reason  have  1  to  complain  !  But 
he  never  imputed  any  blame  to  his  majesty ;  and  freely  forgave 
his  advisers,  though  he  strongly  felt  that  the  treatment  was  un- 
merited, and  it  consequently  made  a  deep  and  indelible  impression 
on  his  mind, — even  insensibly  to  himself,  as  he  never  Avould  allow 
it  had  any  efiect  on  his  conduct. 

"  But,  sir,  when  a  man  who  for  years  had  enjoyed  a  pension 
from  your  majesty's  bounty,  and  who  was  executed  in  actual  re- 
beUion,  has  not  been  included  in  the  bill  of  attainder,  may  I  not 
hope  that  your  royal  highness  will  find  a  fiivourable  moment  to 
represent  to  his  majesty  the  difi'erence  of  my  son's  case,  whose 
services  were  not  only  unrewarded  but  rejected,  and  he  deprived 
of  the  honour  of  serving  in  a  profession  to  which  he  was  devoted 
by  inclination  and  duty. 


4PPENDIX.  297 

"  I  hope  it  will  not  appear  to  your  royal  highness  as  if  I  com- 
plained that  the  name  of  the  unfortunate  man  to  whom  I  allude 
had  not  been  inserted  in  the  bill  of  attainder. — God  forbid  :  I  state 
it  only  as  a  striking  proof  of  partiality  in  the  framers  and  advisers 
of -this  bill,  which  would  alone  justify  an  act  of  grace  from  his 
majesty, 

"  Another  circumstance  I  would  presume  to  state  as  an  allevia- 
tion and  by  no  means  as  an  excuse  for  my  son, — that  whatever 
his  objects  and  views  might  have  been  as  to  the  independence  of 
Ireland,  it  appears  clearly,  from  the  reports  of  the  Irish  parlia- 
ment, that  he  w^as  the  person  who  prevented  the  French  from 
sending  a  large  army  into  Ireland,  and  resisted  the  idea  of  sub- 
jecting it  to  France.  So  that  1  hope  he  might  have  been  betrayed 
into  the  fatal  error  stated  in  the  reports,  of  thinking  that  Irish 
independence  was  not  incompatible  with  a  connexion  with  Great 
Britain. 

'•  In  humble  reliance  on  your  royal  highness's  goodness,  I  will 
venture  to  mention  another  circumstance.  In  the  report  of  the 
Irish  House  of  Lords,  great  stress  is  laid  on  a  plan  said  to  have 
been  found  among  my  sons  papers,  for  the  attack  of  the  city  of 
Dublin.  That  paper  was  found  on  the  12th  of  March  ;  and  a  few 
days  after,  an  armourer  who  worked  in  the  ordnance-yard  in  the 
castle  of  Dublin,  on  hearing  it  talked  of,  went  to  the  under-secre- 
tary  of  state  and  desired  to  see  the  plan,  which,  when  show^n  to 
him,  he  acknowledged  to  be  his,  and  that  he  had  sent  it,  anony- 
mous, to  Lord  Fdward  Fitzgerald ;  and,  being  asked  his  reasons 
for  so  doing,  said,  because  he  understood  Lord  Edward  was  a  good 
engineer,  and  curious  in  those  matters.  The  plan  is  not  mentioned 
in  the  report  of  the  House  of  Commons  drawn  up  by  Lord  Castle- 
reagh,  who  knew  the  circumstances.  I  will  leave  your  royal 
highness  to  decide,  if  they  could  have  been  unknown  to  the  com- 
mittee of  the  House  of  Lords. 

"  I  fear  I  have  trespassed  too  long  on  your  royal  highness's  pa- 
tience by  entering  into  the  detail  of  particulars,  that  from  ray 
anxiety  may  have  appeared  to  me  as  favourable ;  but,  after  all, 
sir,  I  confess  to  your  royal  highness,  that  my  whole  dependence 
and  hope  of  success  for  my  petition  is  in  the  goodness  of  the 
king's  heart,  and  in  his  majesty's  compassionate  feeling  for  my 
unoifending  innocent  grandchildren,  and,  I  trust,  I  shall  not  be 
mistaken. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  be,  sir, 
"  Most  gratefully  and  dutifully, 
"  Your  royal  highness's 

'•  Obedient  servant, 
(Signed)  "E.  Leinster." 


298  APPENDIX. 

TO  HIS  ROYAL  HIGHNESS  GEORGE  PRINCE  OF  WALES,  FROM  THE 
DUTCHESS  DOWAGER  OF  LEINSTER. 

"Itclienor,  Oct.  20,  1798. 

"  Sir, 

'•  Never,  to  the  last  hour  of  my  life,  will  the  remembrance  be 
effaced  from  my  grateful  heart  of  your  royal  highness's  humane 
participation  of  the  distress  by  which  it  was  torn,  and  of  the 
dreadful  anxiety  that  filled  my  mind  in  those  sad  moments.  Com- 
plicated horrors  have  since  that  time  overtaken  me,  and  [  was 
destined  to  feel  the  severest  shock  that  could  befall  my  declining 
age.  Sunk,  as  I  now  am,  in  the  depth  of  misery  and  sorrow,  I 
must  still  reflect  with  pleasure  on  the  excellence  of  that  nature 
which  promises  blessings  to  so  many  thousands,  and  in  which,  I 
am  certain,  I  shall  find  an  advocate  for  the  cause  of  the  helpless 
innocents,  in  whose  favour  I  have  ventured,  with  submission,  to 
address  his  majesty,  whose  goodness  and  benevolence  have  ever 
been  conspicuous.  From  these  virtues,  sir,  I  form  a  strong  hope 
that  my  application  may  not  be  unsuccessful;  and  I  have  taken 
the  liberty,  sir,  which  1  hope  your  ro3^al  highness  will  forgive,  of 
inclosing  a  copy  of  my  letter  for  your  royal  highness's  perusal, 
and,  I  h(jpe,  for  your  approbation. 

'•  From  my  dependence  on  your  royal  highness's  goodness  to  me, 
I  confess  my  first  idea  was  to  request  your  royal  highness  would 
do  me  the  honour  to  present  my  letter  to  the  king  yourself;  but, 
on  reflection,  it  struck  me  as  too  great  a  presumption,  and  besides 
that,  being  limited  in  time,  as  it  must  be  presented  before  Wed- 
nesday next,  I  thought  it  might  not  be  convenient  to  your  royal 
highness,  if  it  had  otherwise  been  proper.  I  have,  therefore, 
ventured  to  address  this  request  to  his  royal  highness  the  Duke 
of  York,  encouraged  by  the  great  kindness  and  condescension  his 
royal  highness  showed  me  on  a  former  occasion.  And  1  hoped 
that  his  royal  highness  might  feel  an  additional  interest  in  the 
fate  of  my  beloved  and  unfortunate  son,  from  the  circumstance 
of  his  having  been  a  soldier,  and  his  having  distinguished  him- 
self as  a  brave  and  gallant  oflBcer,  until  his  majesty  was  un- 
fortunately advised  to  remove  him  from  his  service  ;  and  from 
that  hour  1  date  ail  his  misfortunes  and  my  own  everlasting  mis- 
ery. 

•'  But  I  will  no  longer  distress  your  royal  highness's  feelings 
by  dwelling  on  this  subject,  which  drew  tears  from  your  eyes  the 
last  time  1  had  the  honour  of  seeing  you, — tears  never  to  be  for- 
got. Allow  me  then,  sir,  to  hope  that  the  same  benevolence  will 
operate  in  favour  of  my  unhappy  little  grandchildren  ;  to  your 
favour  and  protection  permit  me  to  recommend  them  ;  and,  con- 
fiding in  your  goodness,  my  heart  will  be  eased  of  much  of  its 
present  anguish,  and  I  shall  look  towards  their  welfare  in  this 


APPENDIX.  299 

world  with  some  degree  of  comfort.     With  sentiments^  &c.  &c„ 
I  have  the  honour  to  be,  &c.  &c. 

"  Your  royal  highness's,  &c.  &c. 
•  (Signed)         ''  E.  Leinster." 

The  letter  that  follows,  though  containing  nothing  upon  the 
subject  of  the  attainder,  1  insert  solely  for  the  sake  of  its  remarks 
on  the  Orange  party  in  Ireland  ;  remarks  which,  unluckily  (from 
the  singular  sameness  of  wrong  that  pervades  the  whole  history 
of  that  unhappy  country,  giving  to  periods  however  remote  from 
each  other  contemporary  features),  are  almost  as  applicable  at 
the  moment  I  transcribe  them  as  on  the  day  when  they  were 
written. 


FROM  LADY  SARAH  NAPIER  TO  THE  DUKE  OF  RICHMOND. 

"  Celbridge,  26th  October,  1798. 

"  My  dear  Brother, 

51c  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^ 

***** 

'•  Our  rebellion  seems  lulled  by  Sir  J.  Warren's  most  gallant 
conduct.  I  trust  in  God  it  will  melt  away  in  consequence  of 
softer  measures,  which  alone  take  off  the  energy  of  resistance. 
That  justice  is  intended  by  Lord  Cornwallis,  every  day  affirms  ;  but 
that  it  has  not  been  executed,  you  will  see  a  striking  instance  of 
in  a  court-martial  held  in  Dublin  on  a  yeoman  named  Woolaghan, 
and  two  others,  Charles  and  James  Fox.  for  the  murder  of  a  man 
who  had  been  believed  a  rebel,  but  was  then  sick,  and  perfectly 
quiet.  Lord  Cornwallis's  order  in  consequence  of  this  court- 
martial  has  enraged  all  the  Orange  party,  who  talk  of  him  in  the 
most  contemptuous  terms  ;  and  no  wonder  at  their  rage,  for  we 
are  too  much  used  to  murder,  alas  !  to  let  the  murder  of  this  sick 
man  make  much  impression;  'what  signifies  a  rascally  rebel  ? ' 
But  it  records,  in  the  most  public  manner,  that  in  most  of  the 
yeomanry  corps  it  was  an  understood  thing  that  they  were  to  go 
out,  without  their  officers,  in  no  less  number  than  nine  (for  their 
own  safety),  and  shoot  whomever  they  thought  or  suspected  to  be 
rebels,  and  not  to  bring  them  in  prisoners. 

'•  Will  people  still  shut  their  eyes  to  truth  ?  will  they  not  see 
that  such  is  not  the  way  to  conciliate  his  majesty's  subjects,  or  to 
wean  them  from  the  strong  passions  that  have  so  formidably 
armed  half  the  nation  against  the  other  1  Deceived  by  wicked, 
cunning  men,  the  passions  of  the  spirited  and  most  courageous 
have  been  worked  upon  to  a  degree  of  enthusiasm,  which  govern- 
ment has  kept  up  by  the  cruel  fuel  of  deliberate  barbarities,  un- 
der the  injured  name  of  loyalty, — a  name  which  has  been  as 


300  APPENDIX. 

much  perverted  by  government  as  that  of  liberty  has  by  repub- 
licans. 

"  I  am  in  hopes  Lord  Cornwallis's  evident  displeasure  will,  by 
being  so  public,  induce  a  semblance  of  humanity  at  leJlst,  if  it 
does  not  reign  in  their  hearts  ;  for  their  cruelty  will  not  take  such 
terrible  long  strides  in  face  of  day,  and  the  oppressed  in  private 
may  now  venture  to  discover  their  sufferings  from  some  hope  of 
justice." 

The  act  of  attainder,  as  it  regarded  Lord  Edward,  is  known  to 
have  been  considered  by  the  Irish  government  themselves  as  a 
measure  which  could  not  be  defended  upon  legal  or  constitutional 
grounds,  but  which  had  been  rendered  necessary,  they  thought, 
by  the  state  of  the  country,  and  as  a  means  of  striking  terror  in- 
to the  disaffected.  No  sooner,  therefore,  had  they,  in  their  own 
opinion,  attained  this  object,  than  a  disposition  to  relax  into  a 
humaner  policy,  showed  itself.  The  first  great  object  of  Lord 
Edward's  relatives  after  the  enactment  of  the  bill  was  to  secure 
the  property  of  his  infant  heirs  from  passing  into  other  hands ; 
and  in  this  the  friendly  zeal  of  Lord  Clare,  as  will  be  seen  by  the 
following  letter,  most  readily  seconded  them. 

FROM    THE    EARL    OF    CLARE    TO    AYILLIAM    OGILVIE,    ESQ. 

"  Mount  Shannon,  May  18th,  1799. 

"  My  dear  Sir, 

"  Your  letter  was  put  into  my  hands  a  very  few  days  since,  on 
the  bench  of  the  Court  of  Chancery,  and  I  inquired  in  vain  for 
Mr.  Leeson  whom  you  announced  as  the  bearer  of  it.  I  have 
been  able  to  get  down  here  for  a  very  few  days  during  the  recess 
of  parhament,  and  shall  return  to  town  in  the  course  of  the  next 
week. 

"  Before  I  had  the  honour  of  hearing  from  you,  Lady  Louisa 
Conolly  had  written  to  me  on  the  same  subject,  and  i  did  imme- 
diately mention  to  her,  that  the  only  opening  which  is  left  for  the 
children  of  Lord  Edward  is  an  appeal  to  the  bounty  of  the  crown. 
I  understood  from  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  last  autumn,  that  the 
Dutchess  of  Leinstcr  had  presented  a  memorial  to  the  king  in 
behalf  of  the  poor  little  children,  and  that  seems  to  be  the  only 
course  which  can  be  pursued.  Immediately  on  receiving  Lady 
Louisa's  letter,  I  spoke  to  Lord  Castlereagh  to  give  directions  to 
the  attorney-general  not  to  take  any  decisive  step  for  seizing  the 
estate  until  full  time  should  be  given  for  an  appeal  to  the  crown, 
and  1  make  no  doubt  that  Lord  Castlereagh  has  done  it.  [  also 
recommended  to  Lady  Louisa  to  apply  to  Lord  Cornwallis  to  the 
same  effect.  This,  she  told  me,  she  would  do  by  a  letter,  of  which 
she  would  make  me  the  bearer  ;  and  whenever  I  receive  it  from 


APPENDIX.  301 

her,  you  may  be  assured  I  will  lose  no  time  in  delivering  it,  and 
that  nothing  shall  be  wanting  on  my  part  in  seconding  her  appli- 
cation. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  be, 

"  My  Dear  sir,  very  truly. 
Your  faithful,  humble  servant, 

"  Clare;' 

The  history  of  this  small  property  may  be  thus  briefly,  and.  as 
regards  the  gentleman  who  was  the  chief  means  of  saving  it  to 
the  family,  honourably  stated.  Lord  Clare  having,  with  the  ap- 
probation of  government,  allowed  the  estate  to  be  sold  in  Chan- 
cery, under  the  foreclosure  of  a  mortgage,  to  which  the  attorney- 
general  was  made  a  party,  Mr.  Ogilvie  became  the  purchaser  of 
it  for  £10,500  ;  and  having,  by  his  good  management  of  the  pro- 
perty, succeeded  in  paying  off  the  mortgage  and  the  judgment 
debts,  he  had  the  satisfaction,  at  the  end  of  a  few  years,  of  seeing 
the  estate  restored  to  its  natural  course  of  succession,  by  settling 
it  upon  Lord  Edward's  son  and  his  heirs  for  ever. 

At  the  end  of  the  year  1799,  Lady  Louisa  ConoUy  and  Mr. 
Ogilvie  made  their  first  application  to  the  Irish  government  for  a 
reversal  of  the  attainder  against  Lord  Edward ;  and  received  as- 
surances from  Lord  Cornwallis  and  Lord  Clare,  that  it  was  the 
intention  of  government,  should  the  Union  be  carried,  to  propose 
a  general  bill  of  indemnity  as  the  first  measure  of  the  United 
Parliament,  in  which  bill  the  repeal  of  Lord  Edward's  attainder 
should  be  incorporated.  A  change  of  ministry,  however,  taking 
place  before  the  meeting  of  the  first  Union  Parliament,  these  con- 
templated measures  fell  to  the  ground  ;  and  though  every  suc- 
ceeding Irish  administration  was  friendly  to  the  repeal,  it  was 
deemed,  expedient  to  defer  applying  for  it  till  a  general  peace, 
when  a  hope  was  held  out  that  no  obstacle  would  be  interposed 
to  the  exercise  of  the  royal  prerogative  in  recommending  this  act 
of  grace. 

It  had  been  the  wish  nearest  the  heart  of  the  venerable  mother 
of  Lord  Edward  to  see  the  attaint  removed  from  the  blood  of  her 
beloved  son  before  she  died  ;  and  being  denied  this  happiness,  the 
last  injunction  she  laid  upon  Mr.  Ogilvie  was,  that  he  should  spare 
no  pains  in  accomplishing  this,  her  darling  object.  The  task 
could  not  be  placed  in  more  efi&cient  hands.  Besides  the  sacred 
ness  of  this  last  request,  and  the  affectionate  interest  he  had  ever 
taken  in  all  that  related  to  his  favourite  Edward,  the  resources  of 
this  gentlernan's  vigorous  and  well-informed  mind  fitted  him 
eminently  for  any  task  where  there  were  difficulties  to  be  sur- 
mounted. 

After  the  failure  of  the  hope  held  out  by  Lord  Clare,  the  acces- 
sion of  the  Prince  of  Wales  to  the  regency  opened  the  first  fair 


802  APPENDIX. 

prospect  of  success  for  any  application  to  the  government  on  this 
subject:  his  royal  liighness  having,  in  the  most  gracious  manner, 
assured  the  Dutchess  of  Leinster  tliat  ■•  he  would,  as  soon  as  he 
had  the  power,  recommend  the  repeal  of  the  act  of  attainder."' 
It  does  not  appear,  however,  to  have  been  till  the  year  1815  that 
the  performance  of  this  promise  was  taken  seriously  into  contem- 
plation. The  proposal  of  the  repeal  was  then  about  to  be  brought 
forward  under  the  sanction  of  government,  when,  in  consequence 
of  the  relanding  of  Napoleon  in  France,  it  was  thought  advisable 
by  Lord  Castlereagh  that  the  measure  should  be  postponed. 

As  soon  as  the  excitement  and  alarm  of  this  event  had  passed 
away,  IVIr.  Ogilvie  again  renewed  his  application  to  the  govern- 
ment ;  and  in  the  ensuing  year,  the  following  appeal,  marked 
with  all  the  noble  simplicity  of  her  fine  character,  was  addressed 
by  Lady  Louisa  ConoUy  to  the  Prince  Regent : — 


to  his  royal  highness  the  prince  regent,  from  lady 

louisa  conolly. 

"  Sir, 

"  Your  royal  highnesses  goodness  to  my  family  on  many  occa- 
sions has  invariably  left  a  sense  of  gratitude  on  my  part  which  1 
hope  I  am  incapable  of  ever  forgetting  ;  but  in  one  instance  (on 
a  very  heart-breaking  occasion),  it  was  shown  with  such  tender- 
ness and  benevolence  of  heart  to  my  beloved  sister  Leinster,  at  the 
unhappy  period  of  1798,  that  I  cannot  look  back  to  it  without 
my  heart  fiUing  at  the  recollection  of  the  consolation  that  it 
afforded  her  under  the  severe  pressure  of  her  grief, 

"  Your  royal  highness  then  told  her  that  you  would  not  forget 
the  little  boy  Edward  ;  he  was  not  then  four  years  old.  She 
thanked  your  royal  highness,  and  happily  lived  to  see  that  graci- 
ous promise  fulfilled  by  your  royal  highncss's  appointment  of  him 
to  a  commission  in  the  10th,  where  your  royal  highness"s  coun- 
tenance and-  protection  were  sufiicient  to  silence  the  unpleasant 
circumstances  attached  to  his  situation ;  and  I  trust  he  has  not 
proved  unworthy  of  that  goodness  which  my  dear  sister  was  sen- 
sible of  to  the  last  moment  of  her  existence.  She  had  but  one 
more  object  for  that  cherished  grandson,  who  had  succeeded  his 
unfortunate  father  in  her  affections, — and  this  was  the  repeal  of 
the  attainder.  Her  heart  was  set  upon  it ;  and  she  repeatedly 
spoke  to  Mr,  Ogilvie  and  me,  should  she  not  live  to  see  it  accom- 
plished, never  to  lose  sight  of  it. 

•'  In  humble  supplication,  as  her  deputy,  I  now  take  the  liberty 
of  addressing  your  royal  highness,  hoping  that  some  circumstances 
which  I  have  to  relate  may  not  appear  unworthy  of  attention. 
The  late  Lord  Clare,  whose  kindness  I  must  ever  bear  the  strongest 


APPENDIX.  303 

testimony  to,  often  told  me  that  he  thought  the  thing  might  be 
done ;  but  after  restoring  the  property  (which  the  plea  of  debt 
sanctioned  him  to  do  immediately),  he  advised  the  not  agitating 
the  question  of  attainder  until  tlie  Union  would  present  a  fair  op- 
portunity for  bringing  it  forward.  Lord  Cornwallis  and  Lord 
Clare  both  told  me,  that  at  the  meeting  of  the  first  Union  Parlia- 
ment they  '  expected  the  two  countries  to  shake  hands.'  and  to 
bring  in  a  general  bill  of  indemnity  for  consigning  to  oblivion  all 
animosities. 

"  From  a  variety  of  circumstances,  these  hopes  have  not  been 
realized,  and  the  attainder  still  remains  on  an  innocent  individual, 
whose  profession  and  principles,  I  can  venture  to  say,  place  him 
in  the  rank  of  a  true,  loyal  subject,  such  as  I  hope  he  will  ever  be 
considered  by  your  royal  highness,  and  that  a  gracious  boon  will 
now  remove  the  unmerited  stains  he  still  lies  under. 

•'  The  presumption  of  this  address  to  your  royal  highness  from 
a  person  so  long  retired  from  the  world  as  I  have  been,  would  be 
an  unwarrantable  liberty  if  I  did  not  trust  to  that  indulgence  of 
character  which,  I  am  persuaded,  will  induce  your  royal  highness 
to  forgive  one  wHo  is,  with  most  unfeigned  respect, 

'•  Your  royal  highnesss  truly  grateful  and 

most  obedient,  humble  servant, 

"  L.  CONOLLY." 

Again  was  the  object  of  Mr.  Ogilvie's  anxious  pursuit  thwarted 
and  delayed  ;  nor  was  it  till  three  years  after,  that  chiefly  through 
the  kind  offices  of  Lord  Liverpool,  whose  conduct  on  the  occasion 
reflects  the  highest  honour  upon  him,  he  was  able  to  efi'ect  his 
great  object.  In  the  year  1819,  the  attainder  was  repealed.  The 
reasons  advanced  on  behalf  of  the  petitioner  on  this  occasion  were 
the  same  in  substance  with  those  brought  forward  in  1798 ;  but 
the  following  note  from  Lord  Liverpool  to  Mr.  Ogilvie  contains 
the  two  points  on  which  the  justice  of  the- case  chiefly  turned. 

"  Fife  House,  24th  June,  1819. 

"  Lord  Liverpool  presents  his  compliments  to  Mr.  Ogilvie,  and 
is  very  desirous,  upon  communication  with  others,  that  it  should 
be  stated  in  the  preamble  to  the  enclosed  bill  that  Lord  Edward 
Fitzgerald  was  not  convicted  of  high  treason  upon  trial  during 
his  life,  and  that  the  bill  of  attainder  originated  and  was  passed 
after  his  death. 

'•  Lord  L.  believes  these  facts  to  be  true  ;  and,  if  they  are,  they 
should  be  inserted  in  the  preamble,  in  order  that  an  inconvenient 
precedent  may  not  be  made. 

'•  If  Mr.  Ogilvie  will  send  Lord  L.  the  bill  altered  as  proposed, 
he  will  then  obtain  the  Prince  Resrent's  signature  to  it.  which  is 
necessary  previous  to  its  being  presented  to  the  House  of  Lords. 


304 


APPENDIX. 


The  case  of  Gerald,  ninth  Earl  of  Kildare,  was  on  this  as  on 
the  former  occasion,  referred  to  as  an  historical  precedent  for  the 
act  of  grace  which  the  petitioner  prayed  for  ;  and  the  close  par- 
allel which  (as  I  have  already  remarked  at  the  beginning  of  this 
work)  is  to  be  found  between  Lord  Edward's  story  and  that  of  his 
unfortunate  ancestor.  Lord  Thomas,  is  thus  pointed  out  in  one  of 
the  documents  prepared  to  be  submitted  to  the  House  of  Lords 
in  1819. 


The  Case  of  Gerald,  ninth  Earl  of 
Kildare. 

He  had  been  for  many  years  employed 
by  Henry  YIU.  as  his  deputy  in  Ireland. 
B}^  his  vigorous  administration  he  had 
made  many  enemies,  who,  by  misrepre- 
sentation, excited  the  king's  jealousy  ; 
and  he  was  called  to  England  to  answer 
the  chai-ges  against  him,  which  he  did 
when  examined  before  the  Privy  Coun- 
cil ;  but  he  was  committed  to  the  Tow- 
er to  wait  the  king's  pleasure.  He  died 
in  the  Tower  on  the  12th  December, 
1534,  and  was  buried  in  the  chapel,  as 
appears  by  an  inscription  on  his  coffin 
found  many  years  afterward. 

His  death  is  said  to  have  been  caused 
by  grief  at  hearing  that  his  son  Thomas, 
whom  he  had  left  his  vice-deputy,  had 
been  induced  to  resist  Lord  Gray,  who 
had  been  sent  over  by  the  king  as  his 
deputy. 

After  various  conflicts.  Lord  Thomas 
was  defeated  and  taken  prisoner  at  Dro- 
gheda,  in  1535,  b}'  Lord  Graj--,  who  sent 
hira  and  his  £i\"e  uncles,  two  only  of 
whom  had  been  in  arms,  to  England. 
They  were  tried,  and  all  executed  for 
high  treason  on  the  2d  February,  1535. 
And  in  a  parliament  held  in  Ireland  in 
1537,  an  act  of  attainder  (2Sth  Henry 
Vlll.  c.  1.)  was  passed  agamst  Gerald. 
Earl  of  Kildare,  his  son  Thomas,  and 
two  of  the  uncles,  and  others. 


Gerald,  now  eldest  son  of  the  late  earl, 
being  pursued  by  the  king,  fled  to  the 
continent,  where  he  served  under  the 
I)uke  of  Florence,  and  was  eminently 
distinguished. 

On  the  death  of  Henry,  he  was  recall- 
ed by  his  son,  Edward  YL,  and  restored 
to  ail  his  family  estates  and  honours. 

In  the  1st  and  2d  of  Philip  and  JIary, 
letters  patent  were  issued  renewing  all 
the  grants  made  bj'  Edward  VI.  and  con- 
firmed by  an  Irish  act  of  parliament  the 


The  Case  of  the  late  Lord  Edward 
Fitzgerald. 

Lord  Edward  entered  into  the  army 
during  the  American  war,  and  served 
under  the  Jklarquis  Cornwallis,  Lord 
Rawdon,  and  General  O'Hara,  with  great 
distinction,  having  been  promoted  to 
the  rank  of  major  in  1783  ;  but  in  the 
year  1792  was  dismissed  the  service  by 
a  letter  from  the  secretarj-at-war.  The 
causes  that  led  to  this  measure  are  known 
to  their  royal  highnesses  the  Prince  Re- 
gent and  the  Duke  of  York,  and  were  of 
a  political  nature. 

In  the  month  of  March,  1798,  foui'teen 
individuals  were  arrested  at  a  meeting 
in  Dublin,  with  their  papers,  by  a  gov- 
ernment warrant,  charged  with  treason- 
able practices,  and  committed  to  prison  : 
and  a  proclamation  was  issued  for  ap- 
prehending Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald, 
charged  as  their  accomplice.  On  the 
25th  of  ^lay,  Lord  Edward  was  appre- 
hended, after  resistance, mortally  wound- 
ed, and  committed  to  prison,  where  he 
died  of  his  wounds  on  the  4th  of  June. 
About  tliis  period,  insurrections  had 
taken  place  in  several  parts  of  Ireland, 
which  were  suppressed  bj'  the  kiug's 
troops.  And  on  the  restoration  of  tran- 
quillitj',  two  acts  were  passed  by  the 
Irish  parliament.  The  one,  an  act  of 
indemnity  and  pardon  to  the  fourteen 
ringleaders  apprehended  in  JIarcli  ;  and 
the  other,  an  act  of  attainder  against 
the  late  Lord  Edward,  their  associate, 
and  two  other  men  Avho  had  been  made 
prisoners  at  the  battle  of  Wexford,  tried 
by  a  court-martial,  condemned,  and  ex- 
ecuted. 

Edward,  only  son,  of  Lord  Edward, 
was  in  his  third  year  at  the  time  of  his 
father's  death.  He  was  brought  up  by 
his  grandmother,  the  late  Dutchess  of 
Leinster  ;  educated  at  Eton  and  Marlow; 
and  before  the  age  of  sixteen  called  to 
his  majesty's  service  by  his  royal  high- 
ness the  Prince  Regent,  who  appointed 
him  a  cornet  in  his  own  regiment,  in 
which  he  serve  i  during  the  war  in  Por- 
tugal, Spain,  and  France,  till  the  peace 
in  1814,  honoured  by  the  approbation  of 


APPENDIX.  305 

3d  and  4th  of  Philip  and  Mary,  c.  2,  s.  5.  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  rewarded 
And  further,  on  a  petition  from  Gerald,  by  his  royal  highness  raising  him  to  the 
his  brother,  and  sisters,  to  Queen  Eliza-  rank  of  captain  in  his  own  regiment  be- 
beth,  to  be  restored  to  their  blood,  an  fore  he  had  attained  the  age  of  twenty- 
act  was  passed  by  the  parliainent  of  Ire-      one. 

land,  the  11th  of  Elizabeth,   session  4,  Lord   Edward's    small   property   waa 

c.  2,  entitled,  An  Act  to  restore  Gerald,  mortgaged,  the  mortgagee  foreclosed. 
Earl  of  Kildare,  his  brother,  and  sisters  The  estate  was  sold  in  Chancery,  and 
to  their  blood.  purchased  for  £10,500  by  William  Ogil- 

vie,  Esq.,  who  has  conveyed  it  to  Capt 
Fitzgerald,  charged  with  £4,000  to  his 
two  sisters.  Captain  Fitzgerald  and  hie 
sisters  have  presented  a  petition  to  his 
royal  highness  the  Prince  Regent,  pray- 
ing for  an  act  of  grace,  which  his  royal 
highness  has  been  pleased  to  receive 
graciously,  and  to  recommend  to  the 
Earl  of  Liverpool. 

The  prayer  of  the  petition  is,  to  re- 
commend to  parliament  to  pass  a  bill 
similar  to  the  11th  Elizabeth,  session  4 
c.  2,  to  restore  Captain  Edward  Fitzger- 
ald and  his  sisters  to  their  blood. 

The  conduct  of  the  Prince  Regent,  in  recommending  this  act 
of  generous  justice,  received  for  its  reward  two  as  flattering  and 
honourable  tributes  as  sovereign  has  ever  won  from  independent 
minds  ;  namely,  a  declaration  from  Lord  Holland,  in  the  House 
of  Lords,  "that  it  was  the  act  of  a  wise,  gracious,  and  high- 
minded  prince  ]  "  and  the  following  laudatory  verses  from  the  pen 
of  Lord  Byron  : — 

Id  be  the  father  of  the  fatherless. 

To  stretch  the  hand  from  the  throne's  height,  and  raise 

His  offspring  who  expired  in  other  daj-s. 
To  make  thy  sire's  sway  by  a  kingdom  less, — 
This  is  to  be  a  monarch,  and  repress 

Envy  into  unutterable  praise. 

Dismiss  thy  guard,  and  trust  thee  to  such  traits, 
For  who  would  lift  a  hand  except  to  bless  ? 

Were  it  not  eas}%  sir,  and  is't  not  sweet 

To  make  thyself  beloved  ?  and  to  be 

Omnipotent  by  mercy's  means?  for  thus 
Thy  sovereignty  would  grow  but  more  eomplete, — 

A  despot  thou,  and  yet  thy  people  free, 

And  by  the  heart,  not  hand,  enslaving  us.  "^ 

It  had  been  my  intention,  from  among  the  papers  which  the 
kindness  of  several  friends  has  intrusted  to  me,  to  select  a  good 
many  more  illustrative  of  the  general  state  of  Ireland  during 
the  period  to  which  the  chief  part  of  this  work  refers.  The 
documents  relating,  however,  to  the  attainder,  have  occupied  so 
much  space  as  to  leave  no  room  but  for  the  two  letters  that 
follow. 


306  APPENDIX. 

FROM  LADY   SARAH   NAPIER  *   TO  THE    RIGHT    HON.  CHARLES  FOX. 

'•  An  opportunity  of  sending  you  a  letter  by  a  private  hand 
happens  to  occur,  and  I  take  advantage  of  it,  my  dear  Charles, 
merely  to  indulge  myself  in  the  satisfaction  of  conversing  with 
you,  sans  gene,  upon  the  present  state  of  politics  in  both  countries, 
as  they  affect  each  individual  now  too  nearly  not  to  make  poUti- 
cians  of  us  all.  I  certainly  care  most  about  Ireland,  for  whose 
salvation  1  had  a  gleam  of  hope  when  it  was  with  good  reason 
known  to  our  family  that  the  prince's  coming  over,  was  in  the  bal- 
ance for  a  moment.  Had  it  taken  place,  the  ^clat  of  his  situation, 
manners,  and  good  will  would  have  served  for  an  excuse  to  many, 
and  a  reason  to  others,  to  join  an  administration  that  was  inde- 
pendent of  Pitt,  and  had  Lord  Moira  for  minister,  whose  honour 
is  too  strict  not  to  win  over  millions  to  trust  him ,  and  •  there  is 
a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men  which,'  &c.  &c. 

'•  Such  a  period  we  had,  and  it  is  lost  5  but  still  I  vainly  flatter- 
ed myself  it  would  be  resumed  (though  late  and  less  effectually) 
when  the  M.  grew  frightened  at  the  blackening  storm  ;  but  now 
I  despair  of  success  in  that  line,  for  the  prince  seems  to  have 
caught  the  royal  distemper ;  unsteady  weakness  seizes-  him  at  the 
most  important  instant  of  his  life,  and  he  timidly  withdraws  from 
the  active  scene  the  times  had  so  evidently  pointed  out  to  him. 
This  appears  from  the  papers  saying  '  the  prince  withdrew  when 
the  question  was  put/ — for  L  know  nothing  else  as  yet  of  the 
cause,  and  am  anxiously  hoping  it  may  be  better  explained ;  but 
now  it  is  a  mere  milk-and-water  conduct;  and  not  only  because 
the  happy  moment  is  lost  do  I  regret  it,  but  who  can  hereafter 
depend  on  his  steadiness  1  What  a  prospect  to  us  all  who  hate 
a  republic  as  a  bad  government  for  these  kingdoms,  and  because 
we  know  that  even  absolute  monarchy  is  better,  and  a  lunited 
monarchy  just  what  is  best  of  all  for  us.  What  are  we  to  do  ? 
Are  we  to  tight  for  a  cause  the  head  of  which  won't  support 
itself  I  And  yet — what  an  alternative  ! — must  we  join  rebels 
and  republicans,  quite,  quite  contrary  to  our  feelings  and  senti- 
ments .'  No,  surely.  What  then  ?  We  must  fall  the  martyrs 
to  our  principles  and  our  opinions  with  our  eyes  open.     I'his  is 

*  In  this  letter,  her  ladyship,  it  will  be  seen,  had  no  further  share  than  that  of 
acting  as  amauuensis  to  her  husband. 

There  is  no  date  to  the  letter,  but  it  must  have  been  written  shortly  after  the 
expedition  of  the  French  to  Bantry  Bay  ;  at  which  time,  Plowden  .-ays,  ••Catliulic 
eniaucipation  and  temperate  reform  were  again  confideutiaUy  spoken  of  ;  and  Lord 
Camdeii,  whose  administration  was  pledged  to  resisx  these  two  questions,  it  wa-^ 
generally  expected  would  immediaiely  resign.  These  flattering  prospects  were  eji- 
couraged  by  the  then  prevailing  reports  that  the  Prince  of  Vv'ales  had  olfered  his 
services  to  the  king  to  go  to  Ireland  in  quality  of  lord  lieutenant,  with  Lord  Moira 
as  commander-in-chief.  The  power  of  the  Irish  junta,  however,  prevailed  ;  the 
system  of  coercion  preponderated  ;  and  the  oiler  even  of  the  heir-apparent  to  the 
crown  to  attempt  the  conciliation  of  the  Irish  people  was  rejected." 


APPENDIX.  SOT 

sad ;  but  I,  for  my  own  part,  feel  it  a  necessary  duty  to  myself 
never  to  swerve  from  what  I  think  right  because  it's  convenient. 
If  all  Britain  insisted  on  a  republic  like  France,  then  I  would  not 
oppose  them,  though  I  would  never  join  ;  but  if  only  a  part  do, 
then  civil  war  must  exist,  and  includes  all  misery,  to  honest  men 
first,  and  to  rogues  in  the  end.  This  is  my  creed  ;  consequently, 
I  lament  from  my  heart  and  soul  the  failure  of  the  princes  cour- 
age, for  s'il  avoit  de  l  etoffe  much  might  still  be  made  of  it.  1  like 
him,  nay,  love  him  so  much,  I  hate  to  think  him  wrong  ;  but  1 
cannot  be  blind  to  the  errors  of  my  dearest  friends,  though  I  can 
forgive  them  ;  and  if  it  is  true,  where  else  are  we  to  look  for  a 
plan  of  support  for  this  poor  country  !  For  God's  sake,  dear 
Charles,  think  of  it  more  seriously  than  just  to  make  it  a  parlia- 
mentary debate.  Plan  something,  and  plan  in  time.  I  am  sure 
there  are  many  people  willing,  and  a  few  able,  to  try  to  put  it 
into  force  ;  but  here  all  is  a  chaos  of  self-interest,  spite,  distrust, 
and  no  plan  whatever. 

'•  Yet  a  plan  might  be  made  use  of  to  strike  all  parties  with  its 
merits.  The  trial  at  least  would  be  made,  and,  if  it  failed,  your 
mind  would  receive  comfort  from  having  attempted  the  salvation 
of  a  whole  people  by  trying  to  avert  a  civil  war.  By  a  plan  I 
mean  you  to  point  out  what  should  be  done  and  undone,  and 
who  sho-uld  do  it.  1  know  that  a  very  sensible  plan  of  this  sort 
was  written,  and  sent  to  the  prince  ;  but  it  is  too  vague,  and,  be- 
sides, I  so  well  know  its  author,  that  one  day  he  is  be-chancellor'd, 
another  be-Ponsonby'd,  another  persuaded  to  believe  every  thing 
by  a  third  party,  and  so  on  ;  from  such  vacillation,  what  plan  can 
be  attended  to  ?  I  know  there  must  be  une  bonne  bouc/ie  pour 
chaqiie  cliefj  car  tout  homme  a  son  prix: — show  will  do  for  some, 
vanity  for  others,  a  secret  for  a  third,  a  job  for  a  fourth,  honour 
for  a  fifth,  and  doing  good  is  a  sure  loadstone  to  all  men  of  prin- 
ciple, if  you  can  convince  them  it  is  do-able,  which  truly,  in  these 
times,  requires  your  genius  to  discover,  your  eloquence  to  per- 
suade. But  if  you  are  really  persuaded  that  if  such  and  such  en- 
gines could  all  move  together  it  would  save  Ireland,  why  not  try  ? 
1  have  no  opinion  whatever  of  any  politicians  here  (by-the-way, 
when  I  am  such  an  egotist,  pray  understand  that  1  speak  the 
opinions  of  wiser  heads  than  mine,  in  my  own  name,  for  sh(jrt- 
ness  ;  for  J,  individual  I,  am  nobody  in  this  letter).  Government 
people  are  so  Pitted,  that  they've  the  insolence  to  say,  '  Yes.  it's 
all  very  true,  we  are  undone,  and  by  our  own  faults;  but  now  the 
case  is  so  desperate,  you  see  there  is  but  one  remedy,  to  join  hand 
and  heart  fairly  to  rescue  us  from  the  impending  ruin,  tor  to  find 
fault  now  is  only  increasing  the  evil.'  In  short,  the  plain  Eng 
lish  is,  '  I  ruined  you,  1  lied,  and  cheated  you;  but  trust  me  again, 
and  I  will  try  to  save  you,  though  I  own  I  don't  see  how.'  You 
know  the  answer  to  that  between  individuals  would  be  a  kick, 


308  APPENDIX. 

tout  uniment,  and  a  new  man  taken  (and,  methinks,  Mr.  Pitt  is 

getting  it)  ;  but  here  we  have  nobody  fit  to  give  the  kick,  though 

plenty  fit  to  take  it. 

*  *  44-  *  *  *  * 

'•  Our  near  connexions  would  do  very  well  as  kings  with  vice- 
roys over  them,  for  that's  their  foible ;  they  like  to  be  thought 
the  leaders,  but  both  equally  dread  to  be  so,  because  they  feel 
themselves  unequal  to  it,  and  wont  own  it ;  but  both  love  you, 
and  would  delight  to  follow  you.  if  they  understood  you.  But 
the  difficulty  is  to  prevent  their  falling  into  the  mistakes  their 
soi-djsant  friends  wished  to  lead  them  into.  In  short,  opposition 
is  (to  apply  the  old  allusion),  'a  perfect  rope  of  sand.'  As  to  the 
great  men  of  power,  all  is  centred  in  the  chancellor,  the  speaker, 
and  the  secretary.  As  for  poor  dear  Lord  Camden,  c'est  la  bon- 
homme  person/Jie,  but  as  he  has  no  will  of  his  own,  he  can  never 
do  here.  The  C.  and  S.  are  the  very  devil  in  obstinacy  about  the 
Catholics,  and  will  never  shrink  ;  all  the  rest  of  their  tribe  would 
kiss  your  toe,  even  if  you  were  in  power  to-morrow,  and  of  course 
would  ki.ss  the  pope"s  if  it  suited  them.  Lord  Charlemont  would 
be  glad  of  an  excuse  to  relinquish  his  former  anti-catholic  vio- 
lence at  least — in  every  thing  else  he  is  right.  The  Beresfords, 
like  moles,  would  work  underground,  but  a  few  civil  things  and 
a  few  places  would  cool  them.  In  short,  if  a  plan  was  formed, 
and  known  only  to  Lord  iSIoira,  who  is  the  lord  lieutenant  I  want, 
and  to  a  very,  very  few  indeed  besides  him,  and  if  it  was  suddenly 
to  be  put  into  execution,  it  would  so  amaze  the  United  Irishmen 
that  half  their  forces  would  insensibly  leave  them :  for,  I  believe 
you  may  rely  on  it,  that  it  is  only  because  government  has  driven 
them  to  the  brink,  that  they  wish  to  jump  in,  and  that  they  would 
rejoice  to  have  ample  room  to  recover  from  the  danger.  As  for 
all  dirty  placemen  and  runners,  I  would  make  main  basse  of  them 
all,  even  if  you  picked  them  up  hereafter ;  they  should  do  pen- 
ance first ;  and  the  few  honourable  and  good  placemen  1  know, 
of  which  there  do  exist  a  few,  would  gladly  join  you,  and  serve 
you  well,  if  your  advice  came  through  the  medium  of  such  a  man 
as  Lord  Moira  to  enforce  it. 

"  There  must  soon  happen  some  crisis  here.  Our  king  sends 
millions  to  slaughter,  and  yet  Ave  cannot,  in  common  sense  wish 
his  crown  to  fall  and  to  belong  to  a  republic  of  tyrants,  as  all  re- 
publics are.  Our  prince,  whose  eyes  are  open  to  the  impending 
danger,  says  he  will  try  to  save  us,  and  shrinks  at  the  moment  he 
ought  to  act.  The  ministers  drive  us  to  perfect  ruin  in  England, 
and  rebellion  here  ;  and  Avhen  they  are  detected,  and  driven  from 
their  power,  you,  to  whose  honest  conduct  and  good  sense  the 
power  will  devolve,  will  complete  our  destruction  by  leaving  such 
dangerous  animals  loose  among  us,  to  Avork  up  democracy  to  its 
maddest  state,  to  head  their  party,  and  hurl  the  king  and  the  royal 


APPENDIX.  309 

family  from  the  throne,  and  sacrifice  your  life  because  you  saved 
theirs.  Perhaps  you  will  say,  '  I  grant  this,  but  I  had  rather  they 
were  murderers  than  1.  1  will  do  my  duty,  and,  if  I  fall,  I  can- 
not help  it."  But,  dearest  Charles,  think  well  what  is  the  duty  of 
the  minister  of  a  great  country.  Is  justice  to  be  out  of  the  ques- 
tion 1  is  the  example  given  to  future  ministers,  not  to  lavish  the 
lives,  fortunes,  and  happiness  of  subjects,  to  go  fur  nothing  ?  and 
are  not  a  few  lives  better  to  sacritice  than  millions  of  innocent 
persons  ?  Weigh  this  well,  and  do  not  undertake  being  minister, 
if  you  have  not  firmness  to  do  all  its  duties.  Perhaps  you  think 
me  bloody-minded, — 1  do  not  feel  myself  so,  when  1  see,  on  one 
hand,  four  or  five  men  tried,  condemned,  and  iKecuted,  by  the 
most  fair  trial,  and  on  the  other,  a  field  of  battle,. a  country  burned 
and  wasted  with  fire,  sword,  and  famine."  These  are  serious 
times,  full  of  events,  and  you  should  poise  your  conduct  with 
them. 

'•  To  return  to  Ireland  :  I  hope  you  know  that  nobody  can  be 
beheved  about  its  state,  for  everybody  is  more  or  less  deceived  by 
the  United  Irishmen, — c'est  un  bruit  soard,  mais  sw\  and  all  that 
we  can  rely  on  is  that  it  exists.  To  form  a  calculation  from  the 
ditferent  accounts  I  hear, — I  leave  out  all  reports  from  the  clergy, 
from  the  magistrates,  from  government  people, — I  only  reckon  the 
reports  of  military  men  of  reason  on  the  facts  that  have  come 
before  them,  and  thus  it  stands.  In  the  North  about  70,000  men, 
chiefly  armed  with  pikes,  many  muskets  and  guns,  some  ammuni- 
tion, a  captain,  lieutenant,  and  sergeant  to  each  troop  or  district, 
who  report  to  private  committees,  and  they  to  the  general  com- 
mittee at  Belfast.  As  soon  as  any  are  suspected,  they  oifer  them- 
selves as  yeomen,  take  the  oath  of  allegiance,  and  are  quiet. 
Parties  of  banditti  are  employed  to  collect  arms  and  annoy  peo- 
ple ]  if  they  fall,  it's  no  loss  ;  if  they  bring  them,  it's  a  gain.  Th& 
Catholics  of  the  South  are  desirous  to  avail  themselves  of  the 
times  to  abohsh  tithes  and  nothing  else  ;  the  Presbyterians  of  the 
North  look  to  more.  Reform  is  the  handle  and  much  too  plausi- 
ble to  be  condemned ;  but  how  is  it  possible  any  persons  in  their 
senses  can  expect  an  efficacious  or  just  reform  to  a^rrive  in  an  in- 
stant upon  an  insurrection,  unless  it  was  planned,  and  in  the  hands 
of  a  set  of  men  whose  abihties,  power,  and  riches  could  give  them 
weight  ?  No  such  set  seems  to  exist.  There  is  not  one  military 
genius  among  them  (I  don't  except  even  O'Connor's  friend,  who 
knows  less  than  he  is  supposed  to  do).  That  you  will  say  is  easily 
got  from  France,  which  is  fertile  in  them  ;  but  a  stranger  will  make 
no  figure  with  the  Paddies  at  home,  for  every  Paddy  will  direct, 
and  not  one  obey  ,  so  that  I  do  not  all  despair  of  conquering  the 
Monskeers  and  the  70,000  Paddies  all  at  unce,  if  we  had  but  a 
general  of  sense,  instead  of  forty  without  it, — or  rather  a  general 
that  the  troops  loved  and  trusted  3  and  I  know  none  so  fit  for  that 


310  APPENDIX. 

as  Lord  Moira,  who  would  lead  them  to  certain  conquest,  if  we 
ever  have  the  misfortune  to  want  to  fight  our  own  countrymen. 
But,  L  repeat  it  again  and  again,  his  name  would  disarm  the  iSorth, 
and  he  can  never  come  in  any  way  but  as  lord  lieutenant,  or  min- 
ister to  the  prince,  commander-in-chief  under  him  alone.  Why 
did  you  let  the  Duke  of  York  get  such  false  notions  about  the 
Catholics  ^  for,  if  he  was  right  about  them,  he  would  do  here, 
though  not  near  so  well  as  the  prince.  Give  us  but  a  showy  ro3'al 
lord  lieutenant  for  the  mob,  and  Lord  Moira  for  the  business,  and 
we  will  soon  find  the  men  and  the  money  in  Ireland  to  save  it, 
and  we  wont  ask  you  for  one  Englishman.  A  few  Scotch  regi- 
ments are  usef«l,  because  they  are  so  very  steady,  manageable, 
and  active;  but  Paddy  wants  only  an  example  of  good  discipline 
to  follow  it, — if  their  ofiicers  would  let  them,  whose  fault  all  irre- 
gularity is, — for  the  men  are  excellent ;  biit  a  commander-in-chief 
who  knew  his  business  would  soon  set  that  to  rights.  Adieu.  I 
dare  not  make  the  smallest  attempt  to  excuse  what  is,  [  believe, 
inexcusable,  for  I  have  let  my  imagination  run  on  to  suppose  you 
a  magician,  who  have  only  to  wave  your  wand,  and  bring  us 
peace  and  happiness." 

FROM    LADY    SARAH    NAPIER    TO    THE    DUKE    OF    RICHMOND. 

"1797 
******* 

"  Tn  summer  last,  upon  government  finding  that  an  invasion 
was  probable,  they  began  to  consider  what  defence  might  be  ne- 
cessary. Lord  Carhampton  is  our  neighbour,  and  without  living 
much  together,  we  have  every  intercourse  of  neighbourly  society, 
and  Colonel  Napier  has  taken  a  great  liking  to  him,  because  he' is 
a  plain-dealing,  frank  character,  and  extremely  active  and  good- 
natured  in  doing  justice  to  all  about  him.  He  is  an  unpopular 
man,  and  has  been  cruelly  injured  in  his  character,  in  the  very 
instance  where  he  deserved  the  highest  praise.  From  his  talking 
a  good  deal  to  Colonel  Napier,  the  sentiments  of  the  latter  never 
were  one  moment  a  secret  from  Lord  Carhampton, — and  it  is  re- 
quisite to  explain  this  before  I  tell  you,  that,  in  the  month  of  Au- 
gust last,  Lord  Carhampton,  meeting  Colonel  Napier  in  the 
streets,  said,  '  You  are  the  very  man  I  want :'  then,  taking  him  in 
private^  gave  a  full  account  of  the  state  of  Ireland,  saying, 
'  What  we  want  is  a  man  of  science,  of  judgment,  of  honour,  and 
honesty,  and  who  will  not  allow  of  jobs,  to  examine  the  country, 
and  tell  us  what  places  are  fittest  to  strengthen,  how  to  do  it,  what 
it  will  cost  without  a  job,  and  still  less  without  absurd  savings  in 
things  of  importance  ;  and  a  man  whose  perseverance  will  see  the 
thing  concluded  as  it  ought.  You  are  the  very  man  to  do  all  this; 
but  you  have  such  scruples  and  delicacies  about  men  and  places, 


APPENDIX.  311 

that  we  must  understand  one  another  first.  Take  notice,  it  is  no 
favour  we  do  you.  it  is  ijoa  do  us  one,  for  we  want  such  men  as 
you.  If  you  will  undertake  this,  you.  will  have  the  cominuii  pay, 
and  your  expenses  paid.'  Colonel  Napier  instantly  answerevl, 
'  Nothing  is  so  easy  as  to  understand  me  :  first.  I  feel  excessively 
flattered,  and  obliged  to  your  lordship,  for  the  manner  of  this 
otFer,  and.  whatever  comes  of  it.  I  shall  always  be  grateful  for  the 
confidence  you  repose  in  me ;  as  to  politics,  you  know  I  hold  Mr. 
Pitt  to  be  the  bane  of  his  country,  and  of  course  could  never  utter 
a  falsehood  and  praise  him  ;  but  never  did  I  for  a  moment  hesitate 
to  follow  the  duties  of  my  profession,  which  i  hold  too  high  by  far 
ever  to  subject  them  to  political  opinions.  The  (country,  you  say, 
is  in  danger.  I  am  ready  and  happy  to  serve  it,  if  in  my  power. 
I  want  no  place  or  emolument,  and,  if  you  choose  it,  I  will  go 
directly  to  such  places  as  you  point  out,  and  make  my  report  to 
you.  for  your  private  use.'  '  Oh  no,'  cried  Lord  Carhamptou,  '  I 
want  to  employ  you :  it  is  a  shame  such  a  man  should  not  be  em- 
ployed in  these  times,  when  they  are  so  much  wanted.  Blay  I 
name  you  to  the  lord-lieutenant  T — •  Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to 
give  me  a  short  time,  to  write  over  for  leave  from  the  Duke  of 
Vork  ?  As  there  is  no  actual  fighting  here,  he  might  think  I  wished 
to  evade  the  West  Indies,  and  1  hold  it  my  duty  to  avoid  no  service 
whatever  ;  and,  being  under  his  command,  I  wish  to  write.'  •  Do 
so.'  It  was  done,  and  Lord  Carhampton,  who  was  at  that  time 
getting  himself  made  commander-in-chief  (unknown  to  us),  was 
some  time  before  he  sent  for  Colonel  Napier.  When  he  did,  it 
appeared  that  the  adjutant-general  here,  a  very  remarkable  good 
oiticer,  had,  without  letting  us  know  of  it,  proposed  Colonel  Napier 
as  a  most  useful  officer  to  government :  and,  when  the  difl'erent 
people  each  found  their  protege  to  be  one  and  the  same  person, 
you  will  allow  it  was  a  flattering  way  thus  se  trouver  siir  les  rangs 
sans  le  savoir.  The  moment  the  French  fleet  was  seen,  of  course 
he  sent  in  his  name  to  ask  for  service,  and  was  ordered  to  head- 
quarters, where  he  was  trusted,  consulted,  and  employed.  His 
nature  is  such,  that  the  idea  of  service  animates  him,  and  wholly 
absorbs  his  thoughts,  in  order  to  leave  nothing  undone  or  uu- 
thought  of  that  may  be  necessary.  Vv'henone  sees  a  person. very 
dear  to  one  appearing  in  their  element, — all  activity  in  a  good 
and  useful  cause,— don't  you,  dear  brother,  comprehend  the  spirit 
it  gives  one  1  1  declare  I  forgot  it  was  vjar ;  I  only  thought  it 
was  duty,  and  not  a  cloud  came  across  me,  to  check,  his  ardour 
in  the  occupation  he  was  engaged  in  of  calculating  the  things  ab- 
solutely wanted  to  take  the  field  and  defend  posts.  In  the  midst 
of  all  this,  what  was  our  astonishment  to  find  Lord  Carhampton 
fly  out  into  the  most  petulent.  peevish  attack  on  Colonel  Napier, 
for  saying,  in  the  course  of  conversation,  that  '  the  war  was  ca- 
lamitous  and   ruinous.'     Every  soul  was  in    amazement  at  the 


312  APPENDIX. 

strangeness  of  the  attack,  and  glad  to  hear  Colonel  Napier  show 
the  proper  spirit  of  a  man  conscious  of  his  own  integrity,  loyalty, 
and  honour.  Indeed,  to  do  Lord  Carhampton  justice,  he  seemed 
sorry  he  had  given  way  to  this  moment  d'humeur,  for  at  first  we 
thought  it  nothing  else ;  and,  thinking  so,  Colonel  Napier  told 
him  fairly,  that,  as  his  want  of  confidence  put  an  end  to  all  plea- 
sure in  serving  under  him,  he  should  undoubtedly  resign  his  place, 
at  any  other  period,  but,  with  an  enemy  on  our  coasts,  it  was  no 
time  to  allow  private  feelings  to  interfere,  and  he  should  do  his 
duty  without  pleasure  equally  well  as  with  it — but  certainly  with- 
out fay,  and  would  take  nothing  for  it.  Here  it  might  have 
ended  ; — Colonel  Napier  would  have  gone,  and  returned  soon,  and 
nothing  more  said ;  but,  for  some  reason,  still  a  mystery,  though 
nearly  guessed  at  by  us,  the  next  day  Lord  Carhampton  sent  for 
him,  and  changing  his  ground  entirely,  put  it  on  the  most  curious 
reasoning,  of  which  the  following  is  the  meaning  : — '  I,  command- 
er-in-chief, acknowledging  that  your  merit  as  an  officer  may  be 
of  essential  service,  respecting  you  in  my  private  capacity  to  the 
highest  degree,  do  notwithstanding  decline  recommending  you 
for  service  in  the  north, — but  not  in  the  south,  where  I  request  you 
to  go  with  me ;  and  my  reason  is,  that  you  say  conciliatory  mea- 
sures are  preferable  to  coercion  there,  and  will  answer  the  purpose  ; 
and  therefore  I  should  affront  Lord  Londonderry  and  Lord  Castle- 
reagh,  by  sending  an  officer  to  any  part  of  the  north  that  held  a 
language  different  from  theirs.  Not  that  I  doubt  your  loyalty  the 
least,  but  ive  are  determined  to  use  coercion  only.  Consider  1  am  only 
an  insignificant  part  of  an  administration,  and  must  follow  their 
system.'  This  was  so  true,  that  what  could  Colonel  Napier  do, 
but  bow  and  assent  to  his  lordship's  assertion  of  his  own  insignifi- 
cance 1  and  there  it  ended." 


END. 


l|lj?"i 


